Daisy Quinn

Daisy Quinn Poems

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Easy; The Story Of Our Encounters

It was a weekend morning in April.
The first time talking since we were little kids.
You used to pester me on the school bus.
I was a young fourth grader.
You were in seventh.
You'd ask if I was hiding condoms, birth-control?
In my pink and grey backpack.
You made it easy for me to fall for you, then.
Our brothers were good friends.
I remember always hearing stories.
You stopped riding.
I hadn't talked to or seen you since then.
Your best friends dad opened a restaraunt.
I was in seventh grade by now.
I walked in the door with my dad.
I knew ...

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