What I wanted to say
on Saturday as we sat
on the park bench,
chatting idly about
the way crocuses grow,
was I don’t know when
we started to pretend
the cup was still full,
how we didn’t notice
the train jumping the tracks,
if going back was
still an option.
And I thought then,
as we discussed the
profuse bloom of the
crocuses in June,
how very strange it was
for a flower to need the
dark chill of winter
just as much as the sun.
And even though you laughed,
I thought maybe,
if we mixed the good
with the bad,
we’d have a chance
to grow.
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 3:32 PM UTC
What I wanted to say
on Saturday as we sat
on the park bench,
chatting idly about
the way crocuses grow,
was I don’t know when
we started to pretend
the cup was still full,
how we didn’t notice
the train jumping the tracks,
if going back was
still an option.
And I thought then,
as we discussed the
profuse bloom of the
crocuses in June,
how very strange it was
for a flower to need the
dark chill of winter
just as much as the sun.
And even though you laughed,
I thought maybe,
if we mixed the good
with the bad,
we’d have a chance
to grow.
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