a winter spent in tears
drowning in sorrow
when all I tasted were
salty lumps in throat’s swallow
holding back the briny rainfall
until I was alone
whispering into megaphones
words to ease a broken girl
to stop the constant flow
or else she may have ended up
a sweet gherkin floating
in a blue mason jar
I was always washed up
on your sandy shore
and I waited around
toes sinking into the wet
creating deep footprints
for you to see
follow to a hidden cove
and spend the day with me
but you never looked
you never noticed
you waited for the tide
that took them away
before you went
beachcombing
admittedly,
I really don’t know much about you
what I saw was potential
a nod of goodness
a smile of hope
the twinkling of starts
the whispers of real
I knew me
I knew I don’t summon butterflies
from the palms of my hands
they usually come single file
once a century
until the day they swarmed
surrounded by paper wings of potential
and I swallowed a few
light touch to be kept forever
since I may not see more
for another
hundred years
hazel meadows 