What I think about when I think of times past – ‘Green’ By: Zoé W.G.


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I remember

dog-eared, green, afternoons

when we lay so still on dewy grass

we could swear we’d become one.

I remember us,

still as hairpins, sharp as pruners. How our hands held on so tight,

I forgot which fingers were mine.

This was back when

each day was filled with green summer thirst. Back when

‘tomorrow’ was not much more than

a wild animal.

I remember,

how the remains of those weeds we pulled out earlier

circled us. “As in ceremony”, I thought. I remember

hair tangled around bits of thorn.

How I asked you

if there was a name for how we felt. You said:

“Devil’s Bit Scabious”

And, when you laughed like that, the garden would sit and listen to the