We met on a Sunday
a few months after the world shook,
and burned.
Your smile swept the ash,
and my hair,
away from my face.
You gave me sheet music,
and taught me songs,
in French,
that are still stuck in my head.
We played them together,
Your voice and guitar,
My flute and penny whistle,
like a kitchen band
without any dancers.
We strolled down the street,
with your brothers,
and breathed labor-less breaths,
as we laughed so deeply,
it felt criminal,
like a toddler throwing a tantrum
in the middle of a church service.
I loved you that day,
grateful for the hope,
and light,
which your presence alone gave.
Though I have never seen you again,
I carry the pearl of it
with me still.
About the Creator
Ellie Hoovs
Breathing life into the lost and broken. Writes to mend what fire couldn't destroy. Poetry stitched from ashes, longing, and stubborn hope.
My Poetry Collection DEMORTALIZING is out now!!!: https://a.co/d/5fqwmEb
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Comments (3)
Aww, I was so in love in the beginning that the ending was unexpected and sad ❤️🩹 Amazingly written, Ellie~ 💕
The imagery of laughter feeling "criminal" and the tenderness of shared music evoke such a vivid sense of joy and nostalgia. I especially loved the symbolism of the "pearl" — a perfect representation of how precious memories remain with us. Your words resonate with the bittersweet nature of moments that shape us, even when they pass. Truly a stunning and emotional read.
This poem is a breathtaking snapshot of unexpected joy blossoming from ashes. The imagery of music, laughter, and shared breath creates a powerful sense of connection. It's a poignant, beautifully crafted ode to a fleeting moment that left an enduring mark. 🌞