on the picnic table.
staring
at the stars, pointing out
comets
that flashed
by.
our hands were yet to
touch
each other.
and then it happened.
whether
it was the silky
blackness above us,
with the
the twinkling of diamonds
embedded in, or
the warm
summer air,
or our youth.
maybe all of it.
but nothing like that
has ever
happened again
quite like that night.
No comments:
Post a Comment