We went and got lost in the woods,
Didn't we?
Laughing through it all, as we do.
You're beautiful picking blueberries
Like some Eve of Eden,
Not the least bit worried that
We'll lose daylight before finding
Our way,
And cute as Hell when asking if your
Tongue is blue; sticking it out
With your eyes closed.
I brush pieces of forest from your
Shoulder. Somewhere out there
A leaf still smells of you,
The way my hands do now.
I can't stop putting them over
My nose and mouth; agreeing
With the memory of you stating
That we're the most juvenile
35-year-olds we've ever seen.
Lost?
We never were.
Even my doctor says I seem
Ten years younger
Than I did only
Weeks ago.