Anthracite statues in all their well-worn, cheruby goodness, guard our hallowed ground. <br />The willow tree, old and bowed, its bark like a thousand solid rivers, drags over the grass, so mellow and enticing. Where the leaves have shaded it there is a trace of the morning dew, but we dont mind about suspicious patches on jeans today. <br />Hand in arm we lie, always that way, like you need a bigger part of me to feel connected. <br />I feel connected with just your little finger. <br />Boy, your hair is growing long. <br />I like it that way. <br />Reminds me of someone I left behind, someone who didn't make it. <br />But let us not ponder the past, on an afternoon when everything but the weather is wet, let us float in the sprinklers as they caress our tee-shirts, and ponder nothing but the seconds we lie in. <br />Don't get up, ignore the rushing masses. <br />You can catch up, you are bright enough. <br />Just stay and illuminate my world a little longer.<br /><br />Effie Yalena Steyn<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/here-is-where-the-heart-is/
