He was full of Forest.
Full of green and kitten fur
And sunlight on my fingernails.
He smelled of clover
And electric blue and crickle spark.
And quiet after dark under the stars
They all were, in the beginning,
Full of the green silence -
But he remained with the evertall trees,
And the elf-lore written in his eyes,
Snappable and full of light.
Sunbright, I'd call it.
Fragile for all its burning,
But burning for all it was fragile.
Made of strength that was feline
and sylph sensuality
and Never Land's crowing.
He was Boy,
Tasting of watermelon and grass stains
and whimsy. And he could fly,
if only he could have felt the
fairy dust of his blood.
I will remember his sunrise
And the ocean and the sand.
And the grains of myself
That fell through his fingers.
Too many of them for his fingers
I will remember his hawk nose,
which I forgot to give back
in all the frenzy and the cold.
It still sits there, nestled in
Perhaps I still wanted a part of him
to remember him by.
In the nights I dreamt of darkness
and poetry, when he claimed
And he was full of Forest.