O Lydia
When Lydia and I
resolved to climb that apple tree together
it was over -
not all at once, I still had a child’s love
for shiny distractions,
but when her long bare legs
arched over my eyes to gain the highest branch
it was over,
it was over next Spring, next-door girl,
next school term, next crush,
next hopeless infatuation.
O Lydia.
I hope you can find that naiveté again,
and that your apple tree has not died,
then perhaps in your mind's eye
you will climb it once more.
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