Week 41 – Into the Sun

Into the Sun

Three years,

Three years and I’ve nearly laid you to rest in my memory.

 

Three years of a book open on my shelf.

 

You are my vines in a field of roses,

My snow in a cold November.

 

I run to you always, but our roads have met and diverged enough I know to tell my feet not to go back, to move forward.

 

We are imperfect people,

But our perfection was always the calm in the chaos.

 

I like to walk away from you, into the sun.

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