we met
upon the white tiles
standing with the compact cases
filled with notes on

every subject under the moon

from fall to late spring
we belonged to each

you brought me to the place
with ancient beds
built under the soft ground
they have been asleep for ages
you whispered
we must not wake them
this is their sanctuary
not ours

the grass tickled our toes
while we lay under the tree
and talked to the leaves

you placed the words on crystal pages
i drank it
as if it were nectar from the gods

hours i would sit
outside the door
in the dark hallway
and read
of acid toast
and a girl

there was always a girl

at the end
i gave you a telephone
with huge buttons
because you did not have one

hoping you would not forget

it took you over 10 years to call
and when you did
you broke my heart all over again

i loved you more than any other
i still do

04/08/2007

Author's Note: because you told me to write about a talking animal

Posted on 04/09/2007
Copyright © 2026 Shonda Chrissonberry