you are more than serious when you are seventeen
and there are still green lime trees on the promenade
and the sap is still champagne that makes you wander madly
and my lips still quiver on yours as earnest and alive as when we were seventeen.
no glance can really spark love reborn
and they say cathartic honeyed words are mere myth
but darling, the way you bounce in your chair and sing silly songs
and the way you laugh with me on the promenade
or in the hallway, or in your room, or on the highway-side
and the way the lips you claim are dry and chapped meet mine
makes it seem like we again are seventeen
and falling in love without regard for cadence on the promenade.
love surely needs reinventing and you invent it every day
in all its infinitude, captured in a moment but lost to finite time
so don’t worry about those lips, darling
I wouldn’t change them for the world.
Written by Janette B on November 17, 2022. FUCK COPYRIGHT!