The wind whispers on the leaves turned brown,
It’s in these woods that time slows down.
The satisfying snap of twigs underfoot,
Getting tired, the hikers decide to stay put.
As the sun sets and the temperature drops,
The conversation between the squirrels stops.
Meals are pulled out of bags and water begins to boil,
The boys sit down on logs, rocks, and soil.
Elsewhere in the world, the night has just begun,
But here the hikers get ready for bed, thinking of tomorrow’s fun.
Clothes are changed, teeth are brushed, and tents zipped up,
In the morning, we’ll eat oatmeal out of the packet, no cup!
All of a sudden, the world outside the tent is light,
The boys rub their eyes as the birds resume their fight.
In a matter of minutes, bags become fully packed,
Today will be the best day yet, that is a sure fact!
“Listen to nature,” and the boys halt their talk,
They set forth on their journey, and begin to walk.
This is the tragic story of finding the right person at the wrong time.
Like any young love, their love was strong
and like any young love, their timing was wrong.
They weren’t ready.
And love,
love decided that they didn’t belong.
They were too scared of letting go.
Too scared to admit they wasted their time.
Hoping nostalgia would bring them back,
reminiscing only made their dreams turn black.
When they tried moving forward
with their heads turned back
this twisted logic hurt them.
It hurt them so bad.
While time walked ahead,
they stayed behind to watch whatever was left.
Watching it crackle, burn out,
and turn to smoke.
Both of them were too scarred to shine for a second time
for this is the story of finding the right person at the wrong time.
The golden sea of grain
Sways slightly in the breeze
Small ruby-red poppies peeking through the stalks
The song of the cicadas
Their cacophony of love
Buzzing insects adding their sonorous voices to the mix
The lovely fragrances
Of geraniums, lavender, hibiscus
Add to the warm pleasant smell of hay and drying grass
The balmy gusts of wind
Caress me as they pass
Tall grasses tickling my skin as I wade through
Everything is perfect.
The best sensation of all, however
Is not a sight, sound, smell, or touch
But the glorious taste of gelato melting on my tongue
It has been a year but I’ll never forget,
what happened was a vivid blur
and I am still trying to make sense of it all,
interpreting and reinterpreting it again.
It was the shock, I was in shock –
I remember your eyes, they were ashamed,
looking down at the floor while our friends looked concerned
and I was smiling nervously,
or maybe obliviously,
and when you broke the news, I…
can only remember what happened after.
Our friends went outside to say goodbye to you
as the blinding sun shone through the window like nothing happened
while I was still in that room,
wrapped up in self-loathing,
tortured by the unfairness,
and strangled by invisible iron chains.
I am still there, watching as time walks ahead of me,
and watching you walk ahead of me,
and I am still interpreting and reinterpreting it all
and seeing everything I could have done differently,
and just maybe it wouldn’t have come to this.