the baby teeth grin at you from your pockets
blood still fresh on them like the first wildflowers
of spring still blossoms on fingertips

i know you remember him, i saw you kissing the stone
wedged in the ground with his name etched
and a meaningless date because we all know
his lungs shriveled far before then.

you cannot hold onto the cold
he is a summer wind left to roam the world,
even if it is one under all that
we walk on if that is what you choose to see.