I Choose Parks

Poetry

Photo by alksndra on Unsplash

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I am surrounded by trees — the huge ones, the ones that have become sky.

I choose parks To meet someone, Or Not to meet at all.

I baked a pie — With apples I grew And herbs of infatuation. The crust should hold its texture, At least for a while.

I sit beside the creek. They say Water washes everything away, But There are voices around me And I can’t hear its sound.

What if, Once again, I become the face Forgotten long ago? I should have worn that dress — Silhouettes no one forgets.

Instead, I feel wounded, Freshly cut, Burning, As if the sun had found its way Through this green sky.

Suddenly I smell carnations. All this while I had searched for them, In this town.

And then — I see those eyes, Far away, From years left behind. The smell grows stronger; It’s becoming hard to breathe.

Behind me is a life I don’t see. In front of me — A moment of infatuation…

I realize I’ve forgotten the face. It’s only the smell I keep searching for In this town.

And so I choose parks To meet someone Or Not to meet at all.

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