Charlie Woeste

2 minute read

i was too young
to keep up with time
sitting in Hilda’s lap
while she brushes her hair
i was too deaf
to care for her words
my eyes on my sneakers
as her whispers faded away
my blissful hums
glazed over my thoughts
my mind, too naive
to draw lines between dots
i was too small
to think in past tense
to cherish my seat on her lap
and when I’m forgetting
I’ll try and remember
when there was no where else in the world