I see my old street…
I see how it shines.
Those days or red roses and proffered wine.
Moments in an adolescent’s grasp that withstand time.
Around the corner,
and up to the gates of Stone park.
chocolate covered fingerprints upon my heart.
She spoke of things I did not understand.
I stuck to the matters at hand.
Did I ever see her again?
No, and wishing would not make it so.