To: D

down on the lawn, on the
fourth of july, when we smiled and
held hands, it seemed like forever;
we had bonded like we
had forgotten how to, which is a brand
new war torn country for us, the
lasting shock we have become capable of
forgetting, finally.
yet, then, while you came home
from a catering job but before you got
ready for the play, I did the dishes,
massaged your ego, and made sure you
knew I knew where you were at.
you seem to exude the very
best parts of the family, and then
you rise past the ability of hiding
that you are merely human and
everyone is amazed.
the next time I see you
I think I shall remember to
buy you some white lilies,
your favorites.
don’t forget me this year,
and call,
will you?

About jaybeasley2

a writer, a painter, a poet, a wordsmith
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