penetrating the walls, invading my space,
comes the sound.
it chases me, finds me, leaves me with no place to hide.
searching for the source, I face the noise,
the memories sending me back to the beginning.
when I knew nothing,
and lived to love.
when this now jarring symphony was nothing but a song,
sweet music
to my ears.
at first
you were the loud boy on the bus
with a red lunchbox
full of day old spaghetti in a dented thermos
and parmesan your dad brought back from italy
it is morning
defined
by linen against soft skin
wet grass
and an orange sunrise
quiet
from the west
to the east
a bus is parked
this will be
the first
and the last
dance
we'll share
I'll be wearing pink
riding high on a childhood dream
waltzing
like it's 1945
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