Little Things

and a serenade to what once was

You kissed me once
And now I wait for more.
We're standing other underneath a swollen tree.
A Bridge Troll waits to snatch me
if I cross.
Your bicycle handles are rusted blue.

My mouth has lost its flavor from this kiss.
I taste of warm apple.
My hands are warm (for once ).
If these blossoms fall ,
They'll Mark our faces
With fragments of a lost love.

Jack Frost breathes down my neck, turning me frigid (except for the lust pumping through my veins).
Is there a myth for Trolls? Bullfinch says no.
My mother has a friend who reads the Stars.
I am 14.
"My dear,you look in love."

Your fingers are stained a dull Orange From the bike.
Svetlana eyes and hands,
No crystal ball.
The tree trembles beneath the winds breath.
Again, I think.
I want you to kiss me.