LILIES

To that one hell of a silent teen crush we all had:

To you my old friend, 

I've never said this

And I had never hoped of you

to read it out from my eyes

Because we, I doubt ever 

if spoke to each other 

Because we, I doubt ever

if even were "friends"

Pardon that I still chose to 

call you my friend 

Pardon that I still chose to

Recall that for you, 

In my shady garden alcove 

A teenage summer dusk

I planted abreast the bush of roses 

Lilies, white and pink 

That, much of a muchness 

bloomed in fall and frost alike

And you never did know

of the bouquets I made, 

of fancies, naive and pure 

that shattered the little box of silence 

we shared one another 

Where the lilies, white and pink

bore a fondness, unbidden

for you and only you, all the mid-summer

And now, behold they bloom

still all the same for someone 

who's walked past a decade,

whom I can no more think back to,

Of feelings once stayed and shoved off

to alleys of time, yours and mine,

Of a brief sunny flake of life

a vivid remainder, untainted.