Simple Enough

-Shamae Budd, 2/5/11

It’s simple enough,

Isn’t it?

We knew each other, once.

In the summertime;

The sky made of soft blue felt and

Carelessness; whispering sweet nothings

And simplicities that lilted with the breeze:

Literature, art, philosophy… Casual as grass

And sweet as pistachio ice cream.

We moved, somehow, with a quiet understanding,

In synchrony with the clouds and the moments.

A rhythm—felt, not heard—which pulsed to the

Notes both familiar and forgotten. Light, charming…

Like the subtlety of side-walk-chalk in the morning.

Now faint, reminiscent, remembered,

As through a warm and hazy fog…

Which fills the mind,

But never the room,

As was its nature

Then.

And now it is cold.

It is bitterly, miserably, cold.

And we knew each other, once.

Didn’t we?

In the summertime.

But that is all.

Isn’t it?

Yes, it’s simple enough.