I wonder
will our children
have your brown skin
or my blue eyes?
On our first date, will you
open doors for me, or
ask if it’s impolite to kiss?
How will you propose?
Will you spell the question
in sand at our lake, or
utter it, grinning,
as our families watch on?
On our wedding day,
will tears sting your eyes
as you watch me, a white blur,
down the aisle?
Will you whisper your love
as we lie, entwined
in our shared bed?
When we’re wrinkled and old,
will you still take my hand
and say
you knew I was the one
since that day we danced?
All this, while I
watch you from the back row,
your head bent over your desk,
we’d not yet met,
and I wondered.
will our children
have your brown skin
or my blue eyes?
On our first date, will you
open doors for me, or
ask if it’s impolite to kiss?
How will you propose?
Will you spell the question
in sand at our lake, or
utter it, grinning,
as our families watch on?
On our wedding day,
will tears sting your eyes
as you watch me, a white blur,
down the aisle?
Will you whisper your love
as we lie, entwined
in our shared bed?
When we’re wrinkled and old,
will you still take my hand
and say
you knew I was the one
since that day we danced?
All this, while I
watch you from the back row,
your head bent over your desk,
we’d not yet met,
and I wondered.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
