love.

a poem by Yarrow Hachey.

love

it surprises me 

even though i’ve planned for it 

the push, the pull

the weight of your head in my lap

though every girlish notebook had its names

from tom to tim to dick to dan

i found yours, hidden in the spiral

and it's like i’ve never said it before

and as if it had always been hidden in my cheek

it surprises me

even though i planned for it

when I catch you looking at something

in the focus faced, eyes forward seriousness

i can see an older version of you

and in the reflection of your glasses

an older version of me

two years older

ten years older

in the rocking chair years older

twenty seconds older, i grab your hand

your face turns to mine

a smile, your dimples, our youth, returned

and it’s almost as if i’ve never held anyone’s

hand,

even though i planned for it

i know what makes me pretty

my long hair, my red lipstick, my smile

but in the morning,

in bed, messy hair, dry drool

when i’ve not had my time

you kiss me, remind me,

show me,

the truth of beauty and of affection

it surprises me

and it’s something i’ve never planned for