The hotel is the same
The furniture is different
The name has changed
But the steps
In the pool where the babygirl
Hurt her foot
Are the same.
I remember
The way the road snakes around
Hills/river oaks
I once ran up and down
But don’t remember
How old her little sister was or
The specific children
Who trailed violence in their wake
We have all gotten
Old since then.
Elea, your poetry often makes me cry. ❤ to you.
Ty
And love