when we were young.
the wet grass under our bare feet
in the cool of night.
the fire flies we'd capture
in mason jars.
the lamp posts gleaming
yellow as we
ran between chalked lines
on the black top street.
parents on the porches, it was
too hot to be inside.
fanning themselves,
with drinks in hand.
discussing their complex lives.
the hydrants set free sending
fountains of water upon us.
we'd lie on our backs with strands
of weeds between our
teeth and stare up at the stars,
pointing at the comets
flashing by. it was before so much
in our life was to take place.
the first love, the first heartbreak.
it was when everyone you knew
and cared about was still alive.
was still a door away, a call
upon the phone. a letter sent
their way.
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