Morning with a Friend
By Zarah Parker

It was in the first breath of
August you were created,
in the second, I.

And in the midst of mourning
our branches intertwined.
I heard your echo

in every ounce of
my mind. You are loved
more strongly than the

August flowers wrapped
in every girls’ hair, and even more
so than the shadows.

God blessed your nature,
as he blessed mine and we
are common in a land

of formality. Our days are numbered
in the distance from your first step
to my first laugh,

only children, but our path
still intertwines, never ceasing
to meet in August

when your palm is held
in mine and I remind you as
you remind me

what grace is in morning
and the mist of an echo
when all we hear is silence.