A Bittersweet Memoir

Pulled through the wood thrush

I can’t keep up with your hand

Breezy and almost too calm

Dapple sunlight, warming bare skin

We travel across the breaks far and in between

And taste the dew drops trickling down

Do you see my smile?

Ripe as a fresh young orchid

Juicy enough to bite with your lip

We’ll laugh one day and share bitter tales

Yours consisting of wicked wenches

And mine with horror show ballads

Maybe regret will sink in

But for now let us share this moment