Reid@YWP

Love 

Is like light 

Is like a rose 

Growing from the darkened depths 

Of a blackened bramble 

Climbing through the soil 

birdsong woke us at five a.m., the washed-out dawn

altogether too bright. wake-up bugle wasn't til eight, time spent

rolling over and over listening to the screen doors slam.

I was once a girl in love with a flower, 

delicate and soft. 

So I picked this flower and brought it home, 

deciding it was better off with me. 

If only I knew calamity would follow 

I got home from work at nine o’clock and decided that I would go down, through the gate, across the creek–socks mushy all of a sudden in my Adidas sneakers–and into the meadow for a walk without stopping to see anyone.

I have this dream 

where the sky is dark, 

moon illuminating, 

faded stars surrounding it, 

that I gaze at from 

I guess I'm happy for you.

Actually, I really am.

At least, I'm expected to be.

Because, if you can't be proud 

of one of your best friends,

can you really be proud of

anyone?