#I know what this yard felt like when we cut up strawberries at a trashy little folding table in the sunlight
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#I know which window held the sunflowers I wrote poems about#I know what your blundstones looked like kicked off on this patio#I know what this yard looked like when it was still a yard and not a driveway#covered in horrible fake grass where I learned how to play cricket#and felt so alive as I hit it out of the park#I know what this front porch looked like when it was filled with plants and a giant mirror and life and you wrapped me up in a huge blanket#and made me raisin toast#I know the layout of the inside#I know where the toaster oven is kept in the kitchen and I know the stove is too small to make industrial quantities of jam#I know which brick has the spare key and I know what it felt like in my jet lagged hands as I picked it up and went inside to wait for you#I know what this yard felt like when we cut up strawberries at a trashy little folding table in the sunlight#the scenes all play out before my eyes#I know it all because it lived in my dreams for so long#the way I’d come back and I’d knock on your door and you’d have me#it was all I dreamed about and the thing I wrote poems about as I felt it slipping out of my fingers as we forgot each other#and now I sit here and everything has changed#it’s quite beautiful how much sadder it looks now thanks to the gift of time and new tenants and the loss of a lot of spellbound magic#but the way the universe changed me inside that house#will be there forever
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