Monday, 1 November 2010

when the storyline began

sometimes, my memory forgets

the lines between the years blur
and there we were (are?)
a hazy snap-shot

my pigtails and your mary-janes
leonardo and april
sunburnt on the beach while the fire keeps you warm
and the same song playing in both our backgrounds

my memory forgets
that ours is a new chapter, only recently begun
and your name should not appear on those early pages

and yet, there it is
in a different book
in a different place
in a different time

but somehow
it's the same story.