Lost Romance
Sharon Ching

My favorite jeans are the torn ones with the
Splotches of red and yellow paint that pretend
To be those ketchup and mustard
Stains that refuse to let go as if a permanent tattoo
Of an old lover’s name that you still see despite
All the erasing and here my fingers run
Outlining their rough edges in search for
That map
To inspire that something like his
Faraway green eyes that knew and understood
And felt and this cup of tea
Is so good for you and you could feel yourself
Getting smarter with every sip and every whiff of that
Aroma interlacing our fingers and those shy
Ways they would whisper to one another
Exchanging secrets they strain to
Hear and it was a quiet symphony performing
Dance-like gestures in the wind and I turn around and
There you see so effortless with such simplicity so
Still the memory lingers