At Six (-teen) (-ish)

To me, fair friend, you never can be old,
For as you were when first your eye I ey’d,
Such seems your beauty still.

              William Shakespeare, Sonnet 104

I recognize myself
in the epigraph
to your book of poems
wishing to be remembered
as beautiful
like you are
Gone more than twenty years now
while I am feeling
painfully mortal
I was that girl too
attracting gazes
taking literally the admonishment
What you gonna do just sit there and watch?
Lately I’ve softened
let go
fallen into bed
abandoning grudges
because somehow
I know you
  (and Prince)
would have wanted me to
The violets are up in the backyard
their faces to morning sun
I am thinking of you
wishing for rain

I’ve completely lost my way in April, but this poem was prompted by Kerry’s prompt to the Real Toads recognizing Shakespeare’s birthday.

Also, today the runaway sentence turns six years old! Thank you, gentle readers, for encouraging me in this space for all these years.