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I Remember The Summer Before I Fell In Love

Indra Dryden-Shaw

Spring, 2023

I don’t want to go to work 

because this morning smells like the 

memory of lying on a hot trampoline 

I’m only fourteen, and the sun is bigger 

than it ever gets anymore 

and the breeze touches me 

more gently than you ever could 

brushing my hair with the scents of summer 

I’ve never seen a sky that’s more blue 

or more forever 

the edges of it surrender 

to the turning of the Earth 

and I think about how I’ve never been in love 

it’s coming sooner than you’d expect 

when all of this peace becomes a wreck 

of grown up problems  

in a young girl’s body 

you make me think you could solve them 

but then I think you’re nothing 

compared to the trampoline, daisies 

the smell of spring 

the beginning of everything 

the dandelion clock is ticking 

every soft second floats away 

lost in the hardness of today 

Indra works at a desk, writing poems and songs in-between completing actual adult tasks. She loves the park in the sunshine and the beach at nightfall, and thinking too much about most things. She wrote this poem on the first sunny day of April 2023.

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