2011-43
In a grocery store inTexas, I catch the scent
of lavender from the boxes
of laundry soap.
We were 18 and 20,
we spent every dime on
those tickets. I remember
England as sunny and
green, the scratchy
stiffness of the cheap
sheets, love-making in a hot
hotel room more old than
quaint. We spent one bright
Saturday walking hand in
hand, through fields of endless
lavender. I remember too, that
going home hurt worse
than leaving
you.
Poetry by Minhocao
Read 569 times
Written on 2011-09-08 at 04:31
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