i met you in the season of the four-a.m. birds;
in the opening of blossoms, wishes, beautiful minds.
you were still coming in to your self;
i was taking a hiatus down the speedway.
sometimes i still dream about it: you coming around the
corner into my vision, my heart falling four floors.
every year a piece of that shrieking time comes calling:
you were chocolate, and i was starving mad at the world.
© 2014 Michelle Warner