2003 (things change)

217 23 4
                                    

the flowers bloomed  swimming pool blue outside.

although we were small, our steps

cracked the concrete, 

our fists thrown across our chests

in sashes of honor. being little

was easy because life was a series of yes, no, good, bad;

we felt things but could not recognize them. now, sometimes

i like to watch black and white film

and wonder how different things must have tasted in color;

it's like that now, when i stand by the little

tree in the middle of the cul de sac and think of

how big it must have seemed years ago.

petrichorWhere stories live. Discover now