On a picnic blanket in the grass






Sitting on a picnic blanket under the trees
we contemplated our past people
while staring out at the open grass.

We aren’t sad anymore, only interested,
in how memories fold into each other
and disintegrate into tiny pieces,
lodging themselves in song lyrics,
or the smiles of familiar people that walk past.


  



































Copyright
Briana Jamieson
© 2021