I saw her crying as she sat beneath the weathered tree.
“Hey.” I whispered, touching her shoulder.
She looked up at me startled, “I didn’t see you.”
“Didn’t mean to scare you.” I said and sat down.
The grass was cool and soft, I watched the shadow
of the tree wave across the sun drenched field.
I had invaded her privacy, she was embarrassed.
I could see it in her eyes as she tried to dry them.
I picked up a dandelion, turned to seed.
With a smile, I blew the seeds into the wind.
She reached out for the stem and twirled it around.
“Funny,” she sniffled, “how words can hurt you.”
She held out the dandelion stem to me,
and straightened her long skirt, so dark in the shade.
She motioned for me to get up and follow her.
As I rose, she disappeared into the shadows and
left me with the flower stem still in my hand.
I walked back toward the old abandoned house,
My special place-hers too, I guess.


10 Responses so far »

  1. 1

    Karmic Diva said,

    very true…words hurt and once heard can’t be forgotten

  2. 2

    Gilly Gee said,

    This sounds like a remembered dream? It’s lovely.

  3. 3

    Love this, so much truth in so few words

  4. 6

    Sandra Bennett said,

    We all need that special place to go and just think… and work things through in our minds and in our hearts…

  5. 8

    jane tims said,

    Hi. I like the line’…how words can hurt you…’, also the recurrence of shadow in the poem. Jane

  6. 10

    habibadanyal said,

    I loved the last line. It often happens that we start having a comradeship with the person who shares our special place…

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