You. You look like smiles
on a bad day.
You. You sound like Beyoncé songs,
the diamonds and putting rings on ones.
You. You act like the forest.
Wise and infinite.
You told me when we got old
about the grey hair we'll have
how it'll look so itchy.
You told me we'll get matching recliners,
some ugly pattern
our kids will have a hard time throwing away.
You said we'll have to downsize.
We only need pictures
"No one's worn this in years."
You said nothing matters more than the future
- that we only act to prepare for the future
- but I wish you could see this future.
Here.
This present day.
YOU ARE READING
Her Blue Dress: A Collection (Watty's 2019 Winner)
PoetryA collection of poems, cover by: @itsmarrosee || I am the fray at the end of the yarn, cut from the new blanket, before it becomes a gift.
