Sunday Best


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When we fell asleep in our Sunday best

Your skirt crumpled, my hair a mess

If there was ever nothing left

At least I'd always have this.

 

When the skittering of our scuffed shoes

Were the music of the stone

As we dragged our heavy bodies to school

With the usual aches and groans

 

 

When days were long

And nights were light

When snow was falling gold

When frowns were wrong

And laughs were right

When we couldn’t feel the cold

 

 

When secrets dripped from our lips

And giggles faded, shy

At the brushing of our fingertips

And the meeting of our eyes

 

 

When silence stretched between our breaths

As we wandered slowly home

When we pretended we’d forgotten

And ignorance was bliss

 

 

When the paper wilted, rotten

And Sunday Best just didn’t fit

I thought of when we fell asleep

Those smudges on my dress

And though I know there’s nothing left

At least I’ll always have this. 

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