Trilling keys of the piano

And spring blooms

Take me to a Victorian garden, a life that’s not

my own.

 

Fall leaves,

the bonfire,

and the brassy sound of a marching band

take me to high school

when marching made me strong.

 

Crisp cold,

snow coating everything

take me home

to being little when nothing mattered,

when nothing was real.

 

And summer brings me to you,

the time we were most separated

and the time I almost lost you.

Sun screen and swim suites and part-time jobs.

And none of it matters without you.

Poetry

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