Calendar
One Sunday, I stood up from
the mahogany rocking chair placed
outside the porch, my feet leading me
to the golden paper hanging on the
house wall. Despite all the numbers
typed, what mattered was the month
I saw; seven letters which were enough
to bring sparks to a forgetful brain, conflating
tears of woe and joy from all eleven months
except October;
A kind boy and an unkind month
had a nescient and over-loving girl left unfettered,
flew with wings made of leaves. Little did I know
I ultimately fell for the unkind boy
during a kind month.
Absence of knowledge in the presence of you
washed over me as I turn the calendar
to the next page.
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