The first days of Spring are out,

I run through the woods
weaving in and out
of the trees

kicking up
green leaves
and the heads
of yellow flowers

I like to think that you're
still chasing me

one night you didn't
come home and I knew,
somehow, that you
were gone for good

we used to play
here, before
the winter came,

we'd sit for hours
reading each other

writing love letters
with sticks
and stones

my skirt catches
on a branch
and throws me
back, back
to that night
and I remember
that now it's
just me and
the trees
for company