there was once a girl
who stuffed her pockets
with dandelions and daffodils
every time I walked by
on Sunday morningssome days she sings to the birds
like a modern-day Snow White
in her pastel dresses
and knee-high sucks
and I'd stop and listen to the chirping of the birds
seemingly singing back to herbut one day in April
on another Sunday morning
she wasn't there
picking her wildflowers
or singing to bluebirdsit was just an empty patch of grass
surrounded by nothing
but blue skies
and the occasional butterflybut on one morning
in late May
on the empty patch of grass
was a stack of wildflowers—
dandelions and daffodils
YOU ARE READING
l o v e & n o s t a l g i a » poetry
Poetrya collection of heartbreak, childhood nostalgia, and the peaceful moments that come from simple things