You said three words,
and I was plunged into a world of my own creation.
Where we painted music,
and your bedroom was a topsy turvy mess of whimsy.
And I dreamed up adventures for us,
like going on the swings at the park,
or painting each other's arms with swirling masses of color and movement.
I saw you and me, sitting under an oak tree,
making grave rubbings and dwelling among the dead.
I imagined you laughing as we danced in the forest,
singing the words to a song neither of us had heard before.
I saw a life with you,
filled with paint splatters and poetry on rainy nights.
You said three words,
my name's Noah.
YOU ARE READING
the city
Poetryand no matter how much you water scorched grass and withering weeds, you will never make a garden re-grow -M.R c.2016
