#980162 added April 3, 2020 at 11:13pm Restrictions: None
April 3 poem: recall a person you did not know well
Bob
Your face
stares out from my sister's yearbook:
soft eyes, brown hair, a steady look,
the way we'll always remember you,
fifty years after you
crashed and died.
I lied
to myself that you were beyond me,
that time would free
me from your grasp.
I gasped
when I met you thirty years later,
blond haired, a skater,
not recognizing me,
mesmerizing me
still.
I'm thrilled
to have barely known you twice,
like snow and ice
that melts when touched.
If only I could have touched
your face.
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