Sunday Morning

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I sneak down and look out the window.
The sun is shining with leaves of green
That sparkle and cast a silhouette against
The old, rickety deck where I used to sit
And write poetry about your smile…
When you’d still invite me over your short
Wrought iron fence to maybe play some
Dodgeball or go for a swim, with all of
Our clothes on because it was more fun that
Way… when we still had something to look
Forward to. And then you moved far away
To the South where you tried to ignore the Belles
That tolled in your ear with promises of a Southern
Charm and a sprawling, lush manor with someone
On every hand and foot to make sure you would
Stay just a moment longer than needed because time
Passes so slowly, standing still, when you put
Yourself in someone else’s hands and leave the locks
Of your wrought iron fence, and stop dodging all
The balls that we threw because outside, you lost your
Clothes and it’s not a game anymore after your father cut
Down our favorite tree because the treehouse from before
We were born was too dangerous to let us climb and run
Away and use that communal trampoline the neighbors
Bought to go to the clouds and fall back in a fit of
Laughter before lunging at the pool. No, now you wear collared
Shirts and keep on your shoes. You excelled in a prep school in the
Middle of the city and are a well known athlete. While you
Are far away living the life you never wanted to have, I
Sneak down and look out the window. The
Sun is shining with leaves of green that
Sparkle and cast a silhouette against the
Old, rickety deck where I used to sit and
Write poetry about your smile…
when.





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