Honeysuckle Goodbye
You hid the notions of summertime in your eyes
and the sweet taste of honeysuckle in your smile.
I wait for you under the willow tree, picking dandelions,
wishing for you with every bubblegum breath.
If I could bid you back to me,
with cherry cola and fragmented memories,
if wishing wells worked,
and a ladybug’s kiss could bring good luck,
you’d be here,
and we’d be evergreen.
We’d never leave the playground,
even as the sun set
and the sky turned pink, purple, and gold.
We’d measure time through the alternations of butterflies and fireflies,
through cotton clouds and counting stars.
You’d hum a twinkling music box melody
as you looked at me,
and that would be enough for us.
But we grew up.
We awoke from that hazy dream
of warm wind and wildflowers.
The eternal lullaby of this sleepy town seemed to drone on with monotony.
My backyard was too small to contain you,
my heart too tame to fulfill your fantasies.
You had become a wildfire,
and I could only watch the blaze.
Yet, I still thought that if you ran away you would take me with you,
whether it be out of pity,
or for the sake of memories.
But perhaps we were always meant to be ephemeral;
a firework,
a glow stick,
a fleeting dream.
Gabrielle Jamieson, Grade 12
Creative Writing Major