You ran up
The bridge with no lake
With a pink dress shirt
I watched you from the opening
Staring, wondering,
Anxiety-facing
Tugging on the sleeve of my mother,
I asked her to take a photo
Of me and you
She complied
Calling your name
On the bridge with no lake
You turned and saw
A girl with her mother,
The latter speaking a foreign language
Then asking you if you could take a photo with her daughter
Hands on the side of my arm
And head on your stomach
You smiled, and I did
And you spoke,
And I heard you
Yet also
Didn't.
It was a dream.
YOU ARE READING
Poems I made
PoetryThe poems I make up both in the bathroom and during school/study time (oh god the first few are the worst)[This is mostly for me to keep track of my poetry progress and how many poems I've made]
