I turn the page,
crisp, brown petals
fall to the floor.
Gingerly,
I pick them up.
Back again,
the wax paper
sadly falling apart.
How much longer will I
be able to keep
this memory of you.
The Madonna
yellow prom dress...
borrowed, hated.
Shirley Temple curls
in my hair.
You, so handsome
in your fathers' suit.
And then, the dress
didn't matter.
The soft velvet night
covered us,
sparkling eyes..
tender sighs.
Nervous expectations,
wanting the evening
to be so perfect.
Dancing with
a dream of promise,
our ideals were
still intact.
And then, you
went that way-
and I went this....
Remember when?

           

Kay Ekwall ©