thoughtful
she was not the first, nor was she the last
songs they play remind me of
her smile, her laugh, her tears
and sleeping on her borrowed bed.
passing lights from neighbors we didn't know
would find their way into our room
and paint her in tiger stripes
i wonder if she ever knew?
we cast away the little things
tattered toys and things of youth
books we've read, lists of things to do
and now we aren't who we were.