This poem was written circa 1996 dealing with looking back at a crush I had in highschool, and how "that girl", who, as I knew her, was mostly in my head, had moved on in her real life and so had I. In high school, a lot of bits seem so important and then four-five years later, never mean anything again.
"She Died in Seasonal Migration"
Melancholy adolescence, In sunset golden days I joke about now, What night was trapped there, In you or about you, To cascade down as stars Rhythmic to the sound of fog? We both laughed all alone And green why's died, Never able to Carry me further Because I think I know, Maybe even knew, past-tense, the whole- Time. Give me a moment I loved you all wrong. She died in seasonal migration; With hearts in smart breast pockets, Plaid and checked with the Round sound of far. Jeans and dreams and all smiles And sighs. I have loved her all along.
This poem written by W. Doug Bolden.
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