Whispers of Days Long Past

Prose Poetry

Photo by Thirteen .J on Unsplash

Do you remember the sound of the trees as we walked along the forest trails?

The litany of leaves skittering, crackling against each other’s spines, became a song to accompany us on our journey.

Your smile was as bright as the sunshine splintering through the trees and casting shadows match for match with our strides.

And your hand was a temptation — the kind where I could have imagined grasping you by the fingertips and twining our hands together.

But no, no, no. Every no was the slam of a door in my mind. My heart raced as I shook myself of the impulse and settled for meeting your every step with one of my own.

I wouldn’t cross that blurry line between us. Your smile was not a yes, go ahead — and I wouldn’t take it to mean what I wanted. No, words were the way, the guide, the one path towards truth.

But asking you — how could I? What sung between us seemed as fragile as a new butterfly’s wings as it shed the casing of its cocoon. We could have flown or fallen, and I didn’t want to take the chance of a fall that would mean the doom to this little thing we called a friendship.

I watched you as you spoke of your day, your week, your life — all those fragments piecing together a picture of what you…