PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

A long time ago a little boy played

alone in the playground on his own.

Disheartened the other kids wouldn't come

near him on account of his differences

he got used to being alone, for it didn't matter.

Tears wouldn't mean a thing, they

wouldn't care at all.

A cloudy day from what I remember,

the earth soft from early rain,

the smell of rain water all around,

a new girl in class is introduced.

Elegant in gait she was the beginning

and the undeniable end of sweet bitterness.

Our tale is spun on the chrysanthemum girl

who reached out her hand for the first time

to a boy who was misunderstood by many.

Within a wet sandbox puddled by disrupted tears

the boy would sit enjoying his self-company

'til that chrysanthemum girl asked

"Can I play too?"

Partly frightened the boy didn't speak a word.

Fearing he may be "upset" again like before

he openly declined her friendly request.

She walks away but stays near picking

handfuls of chrysanthemums.

When the boy minded his business she

stares wonderingly.

When the boy looked up she looked away

appearing to gather flowers and fashion

them into a crown.

The school semester passes so quickly

that the time remembering it now seemed absurd at that rate.

A blurred memory but still, beautiful.

A heart that can be a reminder of past kindnesses,

of past innocent loves.

She was the first to open up his heart,

the first to cry over her lonesome friend,

for she could understand, although young,

the troubles the boy faced.

A chrysanthemum girl who would let him

rest his head on her lap as she would

make her chrysanthemum crowns for both

of them to wear as king and queen.

Playing with each other the world outside

didn't matter anymore.

A fast pace does a memory become watery,

become vague that the memory is hard to recall.

Sadly, in the end, a memory is all that's left.

Even with that chrysanthemum girl "gone,"

today I wish I could go back and protect

the smile she made for me from outside harm.

I wanted to save the tears that cried

for me in the beginning, to be her

soothing companion.

Walking away from a memory, from her,

she is a smile that can never "return."

As I sit under this tree writing this poem

away, I take chrysanthemums of my own

and create my own crowns, one for me,

and one for her, as a remembrance of time gone by...

A little saddened she doesn't "come back,"

I'm glad I had the chrysanthemum girl in a

moment of time for myself...painful yet sweet.