Secret Little Language

Cards are slapped down,

Hands meet over the pile,

Words that sound like hate from an outside ear,

Sound like love to me.

 

A flabbergasting victory,

Seldom a sorrow filled loss,

Cards coated in water,

And sauce does little to drown our smiles,

As we play over a lunch table.

 

From beds, to trees, to hills infested with bees,

Memories I will always hold with me,

A love language so few speak,

But it was made for you and me.

 

Dedicated to Olim'26

(Written circa summer 2024)

goldiElove111

MA

14 years old

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