My Unstable Poetry

freckles

my thumb pokes every dot singularly
us staring into each others eyes
laid out on the cookie cutter
circles of a playground
glancing every once and a while at the
people who stroll by
They glance at us too, wondering who are you?
your freckles to me are a special marking
Of who you descended and just how many times I've seen you
Because I'm aware more and more
every time I see your freckles
You covered them up one day
And I just stared at you
Wondering what you were thinking
Why aren't I poking you
That visit is a memorial to me
Because reasoning soon perhapsed and I forgot
what the freckles really meant