Flash through time

If we took four steps back and closed our eyes,

would you still hope to see me?

If everything we knew erased itself clockwise,

am I still your flower, and you my bee?

The rocks and splinters gathered in your shoes,

was I worth the injury?

Or has every cut, scrape, and purple bruise

rusted your golden heartkey?

Take the remote now and flash through time;

do your tears love the memory?

Are the portraits in parks, atop rocks we’d climb,

the moments that set you free?

Or are you weighed by the question of fate,

imagining in your pod another pea?

As though one boat drifted early, the other late;

if we’d never met in this wide sea.

Perhaps if we had traveled separate ways,

we might have elsewhere found glee.

But honestly in my heart, even on darkest days,

I’m glad we’ve attained this destiny.

When, like a drowsy bird, I search for home,

you are my nest in the tree.

So if we pressed rewind where we began to roam,

I would make this decree:

That you are the one I explore the world with,

because, rocks and splinters, I’m happy.