Tan Line
Tayla Vannelli
The sun and I, comrades for life
His blinding rays force me to squint
To see a white ring circling my wrist
Marking the passage of sun over time
He may have gone for a while
But he always comes back
In Georgia, it’s around April
When my friend returns from his trip
This souvenir from his time in other lands
Reminding me of our winter spent apart
My dark golden skin, evidence of his return
A pale loop reminiscent of our long goodbye
This friendship bracelet on my wrist
The culprit: a ponytail holder