I've been on a "Feels Train" lately apparently. I guess this is what happens when you read up on love poems and stories. You start to reflect on the what if's, the maybe's, and the oh-well's.
*picture is originally from http://arrowlili.co.uk/the-red-balloon-7/
Hers to Keep
I’ve forgotten her face. Her name. Voice.
I remember her warmth, her kindness, and the feel of her hand. The happiness I felt when my childish hands were cupped in her slightly older hands, interlaced fingers as she pulled me to the next childish game she devised.
Chasing red balloons floating away.
Whispered childhood secrets of what it is to be adults, our laughter at how silly it is to grow up and forget.
Why would anyone choose to grow up and forget?
I remember her kiss good-bye, and cold wet tears.
I’ve forgotten that she still has my heart.