i can still feel the waves;
seven years ago.
i used to catch
minnows in my butterfly net
running along the shore.
some nights
i hold my hand out
moving like the brown water.
oh, how the sun used to kiss her;
glimmering gold
i can't forget it.
i walk the woods
that've known me since
i collapse into the ferns,
hysterical.
this water is ancient;
this water is heavy.
i'm still trying
to comprehend
the mind of a child.
words, faces
didn't haunt me
the way they do now.
on the mornings after autumn rain
i pick flowers and dry them;
i can still feel the sand in my hair.
YOU ARE READING
Meet Me in the Woods
Puisiassorted poetry inspired by nature, family and the life of a person who spends far too much time in her head. (sexuality, death and decay are alluded to or directly addressed in some of my poems. these poems are marked by "*" in the chapter title.) ...
