by Mary Ellen Carroll ’21
Winner- Gwendolyn Brooks Poetry Contest
we dreamed of apple trees and fresh spring moss,
the kisses from the spruce boughs.
stuffing our pockets with berries.
the bitterness of dandelion milk.
i know you felt you had to make it end.
but words can’t make me feel less guilty.
i know you’re there now.
you’re the children who pull at their parents
when they see my hair.
you’re the flower in my garden
that i can’t remember planting.
you are every impassioned speech given
by someone begging to be set free
you are every time i place the razor down.
i loved you when i was 13.
i still love you when i am 17 and you would be 18.
thank you for the apples.