lost creek

I found an old way to run,

a walk to the creek,

where we thought we were lost 

but would find our way eventually

My cousin and friends, in the family tree,

back past the clothes line

where the ghosts could hang clean,

Down past the fence line

where you protested me

the one i had painted 

white picket, pale cheeks.

We put pictures in our heads

I could see what you mean,

didn't mind much if it had just been a dream

I imagined a future

 an old symmetry,

I lost the difference between everything.

now i can remember

the way we would go

when our coats were sticky

or when it got cold.