It was a guided tour, but we were the guides. The only way I can relate this to our life is because of the triangle shelving, There were two simple child-like paaths into the woods (side by side) One was the one we were on. With the animals on triangle shelving (very much alive and happy - like pets.)
It was innocent and simple.
The animals. Tiny fragie animals that we took care of (Of course the glass animals I bought at the corner store for you the first February or January we were dating! They were lined up against the cold sill and they were beautiful. I think there were eleven of them. One day, they were gone. Some had slid off the sill. You decided to pack them away and I said they were always meant to be on the sill, but you didn't want them there anymore. You wanted to keep them and protect them and so you put them away and I never saw them again.)
In this there were small animals. I only can remember this and the absolute innocence we felt. We would release them at certain times and contain them at others. The seasons in a year came and went and we felt joy all around us. And something happened, something so small, like the turning of a leaf and I said, "I thought they lived longer." You said "I thought they did too." You were just as sad as I.
Our hearts were just as impossibly heavy as we trudged back along the other path and I told you to make sure you kept it neat. Make sure you keep it clear. No stone out of place." And when you looked puzzled I said "So people won't know, so others won't know how easy it is for them to die." And you understood again the importance of what we had had. And we both knew we could not get it back.
There was an awful, space-hogging monstrosity of triangle shelving that was in your apartment with your old roommate when we met. We got rid of them. I could never make peace with them and you were pretty sure you could never either. They were gone. They didn't come to Philadelphia with us even. They were abandondoned.
It was innocent and simple.
The animals. Tiny fragie animals that we took care of (Of course the glass animals I bought at the corner store for you the first February or January we were dating! They were lined up against the cold sill and they were beautiful. I think there were eleven of them. One day, they were gone. Some had slid off the sill. You decided to pack them away and I said they were always meant to be on the sill, but you didn't want them there anymore. You wanted to keep them and protect them and so you put them away and I never saw them again.)
In this there were small animals. I only can remember this and the absolute innocence we felt. We would release them at certain times and contain them at others. The seasons in a year came and went and we felt joy all around us. And something happened, something so small, like the turning of a leaf and I said, "I thought they lived longer." You said "I thought they did too." You were just as sad as I.
Our hearts were just as impossibly heavy as we trudged back along the other path and I told you to make sure you kept it neat. Make sure you keep it clear. No stone out of place." And when you looked puzzled I said "So people won't know, so others won't know how easy it is for them to die." And you understood again the importance of what we had had. And we both knew we could not get it back.
There was an awful, space-hogging monstrosity of triangle shelving that was in your apartment with your old roommate when we met. We got rid of them. I could never make peace with them and you were pretty sure you could never either. They were gone. They didn't come to Philadelphia with us even. They were abandondoned.