The creek at Peace Valley Park
Meet me at our usual place.
the one we found together.
The sun is bright enough
today to paint glitter on the creek.
Let’s both bring our lunch.
We can eat it after we go wading.
If the creek isn’t too high,
I might cross to the other side
just to see what the view is like from there.
We’ll walk as we go talking, taking in all the scents of the woods,
from honeysuckle to loamy earth. You always did like
the way it smelled like the sea where the streams met.
I’ll bring an Inca Cola. You bring a Jarrito.
We’ll crack them open by the shade of the hollow tree.
You can point out all the plants you know by name.
Me, I am still learning where to find mugwort.
Maybe I’ll be successful growing my own this year.
We’ll talk about all the boys
who did us wrong.
We’ll talk about the ones who did us
right and the creek will laugh
as it flows right over the rocky parts.
We’ll talk about places away
from this creek, the honeysuckle and the woods.
You'll talk about England. I'll talk about Japan.
And we really will mean it
when we say we wanted to see them together.
Meet me at our favorite spot.
I’ll be there even when the sun has set,
when the water’s laughter is whisper above a hush,
when the honeysuckle's scent is spent,
and the moon paints mourning silver on the creek.
Song Choice: The Space Between from Disney's Descendants
The Liner Notes for This Groove: This poem was created for the Weekly Scribblings prompt at Poets and Storytellers United, Where Are You Placed?