Patterns
memories follow such old patterns. I don't remember what i had for dinner last night, but i remember sitting in my first- grade classroom, listening to my grey-haired teacher talk about flames. "be careful", she said, " they look pretty when they flicker but they can easily become a fire.' years have passed since then, but it's a lesson that has never left me. it comes back in the form of a perfectly timed raindrop that rolls lazily down my spine just seconds before the sound of thunder. years have passed and this pattern has somehow found its way to people too. my eyes drowsily trace around his fingertips and suddenly i am that same little girl sitting cross-legged on the classroom floor wondering. will things always be most beautiful night before they destroy you?
