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Circles and Dots
"Circle, circle, dot, dot, now you have the cootie shot,"
She giggled and her pigtails pounced,
As they played on the slide together
Until their mothers called them inside.
Innocent, sweet, happy, care-free;
They were best friends.
"Circle, circle, dot, dot,"
She remembered sardonically while mascara ran down her cheeks,
At his funeral.
She had died to his mother the day he was diagnosed.
Sinful, proud, jealous, and so fatally mistaken;
They had been the worst lovers.
"Circle, circle, knife, knife,
Now you have it all your life."
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"And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything." -- William Shakespeare