<- Back to main page

The Paint Factory Years

by Julia Klatt Singer


We mapped out our world

in the empty lot,

scratched our love

into the dirt.

When the rain came

let it river, let it glisten

on our skin.

We measured the hours

in the drifting of clouds,

in the three-note song

of a bird.

Seven ways I said

I loved you. Seven more

I kept to myself.