Before she left for college,
we played stripped Twister
on sweaty summer nights
that set the forest ablaze.
I tucked her dark bangs,
kissed her olive neck.
She squirmed when I tickled her.
I’d call her name and throw
a pillow at her head.
Her eyes sought to bury me alive—
then she’d smile.
She batted her lashes
and told me she’d attend NYU.
“Leaving” spilled through the speakers.
A breeze pulled her ponytail,
pine drifted from evergreens.
I had no choice
but to hate her decision,
stretching a smile,
fingers crossed.
A delightful drought
watered my soul
from an oasis spring.
Nourished enough, I embraced
her return from New York—
no more time apart.
With the power out, our chemistry
was fire in the creeping fall.
Our degrees were worth less
than the piece
of paper we signed
to make this official.