On the playgrounds of my memory
I remember her chasing me
around trying to kiss me. I’m only
eight and I think girls are icky
but
I’m a little flattered by her
exuberance.
I run and she chases, all the
while
she’s making kissy noises,
“Mmwah, Mmwah, Mmmwah”,
I try to hide behind a flagpole
but she finds me and lays a
sloppy little girl kiss on my
cheek and then runs off
giggling as I wipe the wet
expression off with my sleeve.
It isn’t until later in life that
I realize how much I liked being
chased.
And how much I miss it.
No comments:
Post a Comment