and the condos block the sun

[jennthegutter]

walking down the street with the wind blowing
and the sun shining,
reflecting,
bouncing off the walls.

it was this autumn season that blew us together
and now we've forgotten,
walking down the street with the leaves changing color,
from green to orange to brown.

our hands would clasp together,
thrown across each other on the grass,
the rustling of the leaves,
the flowing of the river,
and the picnic basket being invaded by ants.

and now the last thing i have to say is
goodbye.
we hoped to be our last firsts,
we've idealized about the concept,
but both knew it wouldn't last.

your hair barely touched your forehead then,
and you talked crazily about pirates,
that black and white hat of yours,
skeletal remains of our past.