Boxes of Those Photos

We used to be seven

My curls used to be sunshine

Colored

Yours used to be stubborn

Naive stubborn.

The powder used to hit our knees

On the days

When we could eat lunch in four bites

Even though our mouths were smaller

Just to get back

To carving Ss

In sugar white cold the kind that left our cheeks pink

Now we know better and wear buffs.

I used to have leggings with unicorns

You used to have mud boots with cats

My leggings are blue

And my boots are black.

I still remember

Like I’ve got photos

Of the way the barn smells

And the looks the liftie gave us

The looks they all did

The way we didn’t mind.

I’ve got boxes of those photos

But none at all.