brancH

“brancH”

(I’ve decided to do the a-to-z challenge by using the last letter of the word rather than the first because… well, just because.)


A fourteen year old,
Listening to songs about things
I wanted desperately to feel

Back then, we used music to
Try to imagine how it would feel
To be in love, and have somebody

Then the day came, and
I had someone there, and
I was in love, and
Music just made it all that much better

Radio playing on the river bank, as
We sat out on a branch
Just past where the tire swing was tied

She was blonde, and
She wore sunlight like other girls did clothes

The dappled light through the trees
Across her face and the river
Below us; picking leaves out of each other’s
Hair and jumping in when the mood struck

Songs were playing that I would probably
Think were maudlin, except they
Were our songs, and they fit our feelings, and
Feelings are realer than anything else —
Once you’ve felt them

I can smell the water, and
Her scent, the perfume she always wore
A hint of, and
The sloshing sound on the bank;
Someone was grilling steaks nearby, and
Past the sound of the Commodores on
The radio we could hear lawn mowers

Love:
A million little details, each
Insignificant, but
Adding up to everything

Or maybe

The branch we sit on when
The world seems

Perfect

Author: Sibelius Russell

Sibelius Russell (a/k/a/ Owen "Beleaguered" Servant) lives a life of whimsical servitude -- whatever that means.

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