Rosemary (10/27/23) I met her in a field of rosemary. Baby scented youth, She was a flower: A dandelion, of course. She was the means to a child’s greatest dream— Twas the soil. Her roots buried deep into my soul Spread through me like an infeetion, and Bloomed from every aspect of my personality. There was no part of me That didn’t have her in it, She completely consumed me. Rosemary seeped from my eyes in droplets Onto her skin, And we laughed, Oh, how we laughed.That was the child’s dream. It always is, even if they don’t know it, Laughter was the greatest thing she could’ve given me. Too bad I never learned How to use my own voice Because every noise that came out of me ‘Was a seed from her flower. Every feeling I felt Was a branch of her roots Tightening around my heart. We loved great, And we burned slow But in the end Her roots shriveled up and died Leaving behind barren soil Unequipped to harbor any form of life But my own.