AmLit Fall 2020

Page 113

Annie Przypyszny

Love Poem We’ve been closest the longest. Fifteen years. That’s a while. We’re young and when we’re old, you’ll love me…more? Perhaps you’ll love me just the same, but with a croaking voice, and ugly hands. I’ll love you madly, as always. I’ll keep pulling the long, loose hairs staticked to your coat, even when they’ve refined into silver threads. Fifteen years. We’re already past the ability to misunderstand, and any anger between us is adorable—so small and weak, you have to pity it for even trying. We’re each growing stranger, and yet estrangement is just a sad story we heard about some other pair, poor them. You know me, you lovely grump, Don’t you think I’m the sun? I wrap you in my arms, kiss your cheek (that’s I Love You). You grumble, but don’t resist (that’s I Know. Same Here). The world could learn a thing or two from us. For starters: friendship should be as easy as singing your own name.

Fall 2020 /113