aspiring storyteller with an ordinary (ish) life
I:
dandelion seeds,
crack in the sidewalk they meet,
serendipity.
II:
beach towels on car seats,
washing sand off salt-licked feet,
oh, his sun-kissed cheeks.
III:
the wind takes the leaf,
away from her favourite tree,
his roots run too deep.
IV:
earthworms are asleep,
warm hearts shiver separately,
sad eyes and cold screens.
we are missing
and I no longer remember
where I misplaced us
perhaps our hearts
sunk to the bottom of the
Tasman sea when I moved
away from home?
I thought if I packed my bags
full of photos and love notes
I could make a scrapbook of
our story but I guess
scraps are just the meaningless
edges of what I clung onto
too tightly and torn too carelessly
and these tears cannot be mended
just wiped away.
