David was a tall, thin, wild looking boy. He was prone to deep thoughts, encumbered by melancholy. With this came poetry and letters as I became a focus of his interest. I think he scared me a little by his intensity. One morning I woke up and found wild sunflowers thrown all over my front porch and down the walk. I knew they were mine and they were from him. What is it that makes a boy cut down hundreds of sunflowers with his hands?
Next to my window, there was a brick with a crack in it. It became a place to leave post. David and I would exchange letters pressed into the crack. Often there would be an apple or orange left on the sill as an offering.
These memories nod to me in the breeze.
5 comments:
I'm loving your writing style Kaerlig. Very authentic and poetic. Thanks for the peek into your past.
Ok, so you have to explain to me why you aren't an author making lots of money because you write so beautifully??? HELLO!!!! Start writing a book, or publish all the cute poetry you and David exchanged...I know people out there would read it...like me!! You are so good! We have some of the same genes...and why I don't write like that puzzles me (ha ha ha!)
Thank you for sharing this. It's lovely.
Beautiful.
Sorry I always get so sappy.
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