Today I thought of childhood,
how wild roses' seeds itch and burn
if you get them on your skin
so I plucked a rosebud
and prematurely opened it
in my hands like the time when
you and I plucked wild roses
in Janis garden and you
pulled out all the petals
to show me the seeds
as you told me stories
only you would know
so when I, eyes closed,
got lost in descriptions,
you would bring your hand
behind my neck, carefully,
and stick all the seeds
inside my little shirt
alighting my body
in hundreds of bursts.
Ani
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