Tulips

The memories
of our childhood playmates
we still hold up
not like those tulips
as high as our hips
that never grew up

As the Persian infant prince
who never found
true love
again since
memories of life
are frames
locked in time
that never flow
out of rhyme

Playmates eventually dissipate
whether we like it or not
soon or late
Each season tulips come back
while childhood memories
keep on being pushed
way back

As munchkins
we
thought
did not have a match
almost a century later
without a head scratch
we cannot remember a thing
there is no point
in trying to pull some string