The Green Knot

On the screen, a ghost of me,

that scarf, that shade of green.

I still recall the tale I spun,

a vivid, false, elaborate scene.

It was from a trip, I said,

a market stall, a lucky find.

But really, it was just bought cheap,

the kind of thought I left behind.

My smile, too wide, a plastic cup

held tight in that old snap.

The knot so perfect, tightly bound,

a truth caught in a little trap.

Never set it straight, you see,

just let the moment drift away.

Now every time I see that hue,

I think of what I chose to say.