twoblueviolets

I miss you like I miss my childhood and good God,

I think it's because that's what you were.

You were a childhood fantasy and now you are gone

we're

two teenagers who don't look when we pass in the hall

I would look at one and smile

see a teenager with cupid bow lips

see deep brown eyes, too big for them

see off center and crooked features

see too round of a face, too sharp of a jaw

When we drove through my hometown for the first time, I asked her, "What do you see?"

And she stared at the setting Ohio sun, at the too cold outside with not enough snow, at the streets I called home.

You are a student of a language, warping butter-like words on your tongue. 

She died when I was twelve

and I still miss her house

with a VHS copy of Cinderella too precious to shelve

She died when I was twelve

and I know it's best not to dwell

winter

traditional

candles on the table

Advent is here in flame and fire

It's warm.

winter

transitional

Christmas films on cable

Advent light now frames the foyer

It's warm.