Not Ready

How do you touch her?

Doesn't matter, she touches you.

Her history, to me, not important.

Holiday issues, hers, not yours or ours.

Boxes are baggage, many ways.

A garage full of weight.

Moving on, you, not me.

Not ready.

Heartache is a purple bracelet.

Firmly wrapped around my heart.

A ruby red slipper, never worn.

A lady bug landing on my sleeve.

Not ready.

Painted eggs.

A tradition, troubled now.

Easter colors faded but vibrant in my mind.

Not ready.

Nap talks after school.

Taco Bell lunches.

Special times, 

Still longed for.

Not ready.

-Undated, circa 2005