I honestly don’t know what prompted this poem. It just kind of happened. I took a handful of lines from a Facebook post I’d made in a writing group when I had a headache and was feeling depressed and I turned them into this:

Annie Louise Twitchell
You will remember a half whisper of me
when you see a single rosebud on the dust shrub
growing in the parking lot median and
when you see a forgotten ice cream cone melting
across the sidewalk at the park and
when the wind blows just so and plays with her hair.
And you will never quite be able to forget me.

And for that, I am sorry.

(And after spending twenty minutes wrestling with the formatting, I quit. If the fonts aren’t all the same, whatever. I’ll try harder next time, but I’m tired.)

Copyright 2016 by Annie Louise Twitchell

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