We had a good run, the city
was a boyfriend who didn't age.
At first he was wise, older, so
full of lessons and willing
to teach. For a time, I looked
him in the eye, hand in hand
we ran. Then I stopped to stare
into the sea and he stomped
impatiently, an impudent
child at the ballet with no
potential for growth. Now
I visit and we talk about
old times, I let him kiss
my cheek, but I'm happy
to leave, back to the South
and a mouth that knows
what to breathe in my ear.
No comments:
Post a Comment