two

Katie Ann Lee, 2T5 Fitz

two

there’s the donut and the walk home,
a promise that won’t be kept and a confession unspoken.
imagine a shopping cart and a smoothie run,
domestic sweetness, coupled with the knowledge that home comes and goes.

there’s music on a tiny speaker and the cheapest wine;
in every spin and wrongly belted lyric,
feel two become one, but not for long enough to last.
oh, to hold in one hand the kitchen light, and in the other, theirs.

it’s in the bench inscription,
“bigger than the sky” – but what?
to sit, to think, and maybe to walk, to write.
leaving this place means giving up, but hope can be heavy, too.

a whispered wish is attached to the coin in the fountain,
and it matches the one on the birthday candle,
but please don’t tell,
just watch time and the water ebb and flow.

a gift never given, a note exchanged for another—
each day it says less but means more.
in any case, the cosmic principle remains:
both worlds exist, as long as they let them.