I can still see the way you stood.
Don’t tell me you’ve changed your stance
because that picture is so vivid.
Head tilted, resting on one foot.
The guy in front of us had roses.
Their velvet softness made me smile
and I think it was a shame.
Crimson petals in perfect smooth posies.
You laughed at my ideals, but
it was an idea taken from mine.
The box was red and hard edged;
large black letters stretched across it’s front.
I wish you hadn’t been so nervous
because the memories feel strange.
But our safe place was warm.
So do you remember last year?