Grapes

 

Hopefully, you forget me. 

I won't forget you or

those greasy kitchen coffee mornings;

the insects humming in the sun;

the grapes of laughter

or the green hills 

that made our skin cry. 

I was viciously aware

that I was running out of you. 

And off you ran—

skipping

into the marble bushes.

I forgive your thorned laughter

even though it almost killed me

when you left. 

Hopefully, you forget me.

But I never do.

I'll see you in the vines

and I'll toss some fruit over the fence 

just like every time when

I used to think of you.