DEATH Poem: In the Before Time, by Benjamin Kirby

She comes to me now, in recent dreams
as real as she ever was
Young, possible as a new day
Tall and pretty, the smell of innocence on her like wild clover

Before acceleration on a wet road
In the wondering time of her shy smile
The way her hair curled in her face
The way her arms curved around her books

It is the burning southern summer, always
Or maybe in between late spring showers
The black t-shirt tucked in
Me, dancing out a joke for a half-smile prize

In the dreams, she says nothing
sometimes grins in that pouting way, to hide her braces
But we share our moments as we did before,
Quiet, walking home in love with the sunshine

Author: poetryfest

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