Inmy hand I hold,
The crisped petals
Of a once vibrant rose
In stonesilence
I stand ...
You waft across my mind like
A soft ocean breezeblowing
through my hair
... when I was a child
Saturday afternoonsfilled with
soccer trips and West Brom stats
You smelledof
Banana-nut muffins
My baking grandpa
As I grew and changed
Youstayed ...
Constant
Last summer,
we drove together on those samestreets
to work every day
And watched a new house being built
If youcould see me now
As I drive them myself
By the house nowcompleted
... the last fleeting scene
etched in my memories ...
youwalking,
the Persian carpeted stairs,
wearing a camel winter cap,
overyour glistening ivory locks of hair
tainted with sparks of gray
I'llnever forgive myself
For not taking another glance
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
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