January 13, 2016
Between the perfume bottle
and the bracelet resting on my dresser,
there is a story
of how I fell in love with you.
Between the camera and the books,
a stack of three,
there is a story of how you fell in love with me.
Slipping on the bracelet, one of silver and engraved,
my eyes read the title of one book.
Never Take For Granted Love, on the cover it did say.
On my wrist the scent I placed.
Its aroma told of a moment when your arms they lifted me
and we spun circles on brick space.
Reflected in glass double doors,
this was a true love story’s start.
To have the moment photographed, I could visit it once more.
On the silver band around my wrist,
my only love had inscribed,
“Never take for granted love.”
Nostalgic tears did fall, from my hazel eyes.