Friday 20 December 2019

Straws


I left it behind
It was the hat we made of straws
Whilst in the mountains, roaming as free birds
In love, so-called, if it does deem being named
It had no purpose
Not anymore
For it was gone, it was lost, or maybe just forgotten
Would you ever remember, as I did?
How many straws did each need?
I would, I had it drawn, meticulously
It was over-engineered,
I had to compensate for the gusty wind
So that your eyes wouldn’t water
You wore your contacts
Those were at best an invitation to discomfort
In the cold wind,
Around the smoky fire, atop the mountain
I would have hated to see your eyes being watery
Here we are, at a passing
You at your side of an opinion
Me at none
I never did have one to condone or comfort
And yet we fought
At times over my lack of bias.
You asked me then, why I burnt the hat while leaving
I had smiled and said
Maybe the ash will scatter amongst the wind
Remind me of you, should you ever vanish.

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