| Even Winter is not Forever |
On April evenings we would watch the stars, lay back on the grass while the rain would fall. And we would entangle our hands in the darkness, as we invented constellations, crashed planets, and laughed at the tickling of the grass at the back of our knees. It�s winter now, she lies alone. I try to hold her hand, but the grass just stabs my palm. It could use some rain, it grows short around the stone. Despite the cold, does she watch the stars? Or does she sit astride our made-up constellations and watch me? |