A Prose Poem by Anon ymous
Not sure what is left to write. I’ve told you about the birds that nest in winter; the simple pearl of water that glides down my window; an unpainted bridge over Lester Park Creek that reminds me of that summer. We cannot forget what we don’t remember; cannot let it go again. Next time will be forever. This morning the moon was a dim light wrapped in gauze. We are separated; not by distance, not time but circumstance. We will carry each other; two butterflies frozen still on pink petals. Handwritten notes folded in our pockets; everything we’ll ever need.