Last night I was with him
must have been a dream, I guess
We had a little conversation
about the books we’d read.
Seven years, I said softly.
Seems like nothing’s changed.
Pink petals on the ground,
blue sky above our heads.
Now it’s all so blurry
Broad smile, sweaty hands.
We are like most lovers in the world, dear.
That’s what he said.
We’re not meant to be together,
and that’s OK.

(2014)

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Tony Hill
alrededor de 6 años

Like your poem, Julia. It has a dream-like quality.

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