Mar 2015
There was a stunning symbolism floating through the air that night.
We laughed about it without acknowledging it out loud,
Fumbling with lighters and glances cast downward.
I jumped a fence, in a dress, four hours past curfew.
You said, "You owe me an adventure, I saved your life today."
You had, and every day before that.
But never again since.
We laughed about it without acknowledging it out loud,
Fumbling with lighters and glances cast downward.
I jumped a fence, in a dress, four hours past curfew.
You said, "You owe me an adventure, I saved your life today."
You had, and every day before that.
But never again since.
Nearly three years old - Written about a day at the beach when I nearly drowned, then broke into a park and set off paper lanterns with 80 of my closest friends.
