I found a broken bracelet, hidden
beneath old coins and empty glue-sticks,
tangled with lost keys and paper clips,
from a day when plastic rings were cool.

We’d bought it for coins at the spring fair,
when you said it’d look pretty on me-
combined cents left after lemonade
and topsy turvy Ferris wheel rides.

Old enough to identify the
rush of adrenaline at daybreak
when we cycled down dusty dirt roads.
Too young to put a label on us.

Small town roads and city skyscrapers
don’t intersect, and they never will.
No matter the place, may the embrace
of our memories remain the same.

And should we meet again let us not
put a label on what we enjoyed
like most grown ups, carved perfectly out
of wood polished bright, are eager to.

Our feeling, like ice cream in summer,
cooling you down but warming your heart,
like broken bracelets you cannot wear,
nor throw away, let us remain

Undefined.