The lining of my pocket is tearing at the seam.
I’ve carried a handful of trinkets and scraps of paper
with your name on them for the past week.
A kiss, a sunrise and a polka dot dress seeped into its fibers,
along with a few hours of stolen laughter.
Tussled hair on a windy jetty.
The blare of a freight train’s horn driving past your uncle’s house.
The wrong lyrics to your favorite song on the radio.
They all found their way into the stitching.
And one day, the seams will give way,
spilling all their contents at your feet:
the first day of spring,
a Floridian lullaby,
the chorus to my favorite love song;
and the beginning of a joke long forgotten.
No comments:
Post a Comment