Poems of Love and Innocence Lost

telepathy

the magic of poetry

begins with this:

you are with me

in a small house on the

middle of a thick forest

while you reach for the bag of flour

above the mantelpiece where i placed

our picture together, smiling with

hands draped on each other’s shoulder

ignorant of the consequences

of a broken chair

and a bag of flour

to the almost seven years

we walked together

on our way home

.

primroses

i scaled the wall

and waited with the primroses

when i saw your sky blue dress

waving by the metal brazen gates

and on your hand was

a mass of papers printed with the

smiling, happy face of a yellow plane

i muttered under my breath all of the

familiar things: the crook of your nose

the depth of your breath

the strand of hair by your right ear

and all you did was look at the primroses

and remember how many petals

the red one had

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