where stories come from
be nice to me, i begged when we argued,
we can disagree but why can’t you be kind?
pacing through our new neighborhood
dry your tears, you said
what will the neighbors think
i did
but what about what i think
and the moment sat like a small stone in my heart
fight after fight (I never fight)
year after year (I’m never right)
stone after stone (It’s always night)
then walk away
when you leave, hold your truth tight
a golden thread
let it guide you step by step
past silent doorways
through twists and turns
wind it up as you go
a remembrance
a shining ball cradled warm in your hands
it breathes
months years decades later
reach in with wrinkled hands
take it from the cupboard of your heart
nestle it with the others in a wicker basket
yours and his and his and theirs
sit at the loom
and weave
Copyright 2021 Autumn Looijen
