Roses on the Playground

Roses on the Playground

I saw you on the playground.
You're playing four square on black pavement.
I am impressed.
All I could do was draw pretty pictures with chalk. You hand me a red rose.
I wanna be like you.
I am in kindergarden.

I saw you across the lava floor.
You easily jumped from box to box.
All I could ever do was fall.
You were always here to catch me.
I am in 5th grade.

I saw you holding her hand.
Leaving soft kisses on her forehead.
My body is changing, I am akward.
Why can't I be like her?
I am in 7th grade.

It's Christmas and I don't see you anymore.
You've hung up couple portraits on new walls with her.
And it doesn't matter how much cookie dough I shove down my throat,
how many ornaments I hang on my green pine tree. I can't forget you.
I am graduating high school.

It's been a few years and I've forgotten about you.
I am writing with a wooden pencil inside this coffee shop
I see you.
You're sitting underneath a bare Edison bulb
and you're crying enormous tears.
I remember you and I approach.
She left you.
I am out of college.

I see you through a white vail.
You're dressed in a suit.
You are beautiful.
You kiss me
I am your wife.

I am in the hospital and you're dressed in green scrubs
your familiar lips brush my forehead.
I hold our first child.

Baby goes to collage.

I look in the mirror through a bird cage veil.
My face is covered in wrinkles
enormous tears are forced out of my eyes.
I remove my make up and my black dress.
I remember the first time I saw you on the playground.
You were playing four square.
You gave me a red Rose.
I want to be like you.
Please oh please Take me back to that day.
I wrap my body in your clothes.
I go to bed
alone.