the next winter was the longest,
but you wouldn't have known.
you never showed up.
i used to sit at the bay window in my living room
for hours on end,
just waiting to see that orange bike speed past.
the next winter you did show up,
yet you were far too busy to be with me.
you had just turned 11,
myself being 9,
and i had waited 2 years to see you again.
but when you showed up there was no sign of that orange bike you treasured so much.
you came only with a back pack,
but it was all black,
not that burnt shade of orange you loved so much.
i had gone down to the park only to see you,
but you were with someone-
a girl.
you didnt even notice me.
you were too busy making a snow family with her.
bragging about how it was much better than your last one-
our last one.
you stayed until the first day of spring that year too,
and i remember sitting at that bay window,
waiting for my father to come home when i saw you and her,
you were putting those cherry blossoms in her hair instead of mine.
the only difference this time was that your father didn't seem to care,
and i wondered:
was this for yourself or was it for him?
