Jasmine Memories

I still walk by that storefront Where we took shelter from the summer rain, A pair of teas with pearls in our hands. Dusky blonde strands stuck to your forehead, A beautiful disarray. The graceful curve of your neck A siren song to my lips, I stared, transfixed, Talking of everything and nothing at all. Was I already yours? My pulse competed with your sweet voice, Drumming a counterpoint to its lilting melody, Forming a symphony of desire. An intimacy of depths previously unknown, Nascent in that moment. I can still taste the jasmine on my lips As I watch the shadows of two bedraggled girls Huddled together in front of those doors, My core breaking. Like an orchid inextricably entangled with a hyacinth, Joy and pain for the past entwine within. Tears on my face obscured by the fall showers, Hoping each rain will bring relief, And help new seeds take root, Or old bulbs revive.