Our last night together,
with streetlights shining in our eyes,
and the evening fog glowing gold.
The coming morning dew
rests first upon my eyes.
Each hour rushes by just as fast
as each year we’ve shared our young lives.
Our fleeting embrace breaks,
falling into enduring nostalgia,
as I attempt to grasp the past fully again.
One last drive home,
rain falling on both sides of the window.
Days fly by,
a new me,
a new you.
Hours become years until we meet again,
our shadows greeting each other,
past and present-
meeting once again,
and for the first time.
You’ll always be that person I knew inside and out,
one night beneath the streetlights.

Memories prickle your lazy morning thoughts
as pine needles remind bare feet
that mountain trees have lost as well.
Here,
you run hands through meadow grass
to rummage through a treasure chest of texture;
to root yourself into the Earth,
and not let go of your soil.

But when we do this,
rain pours,
and we soon take hold,
until the seed in our minds sprout like dandelions,
and those memories float away on cotton sails,
off the mountain,
elated to grow somewhere else,
to be picked by someone else,
in a different time;
hands softened by youth
and the innocence required
to see not weeds,
but flowers.

As a young swallow learns to
frolic between the clouds and verdant fields,
so learns my heart to wanton
in the rosy scented air.
No matter time flowed by,
or places left behind,
my past fades into obscurity
as the light you bring floods my life,
and carries my heart out upon uncharted seas.

Moments are touched only once,
held in our hands like a water droplet
under the July sun-
then quickly depart to join the clouds
far beyond our reach.
In such a fleeting world
sometimes it may seem as though
we sculpt our lives in sand.
Meaning is difficult to see
through the fog of futility.
Yet we carry on knowing blooming flowers wilt,
but their scent lingers among our memories
until a new spring comes.

Come with me to see the world,
I'll miss not one bit of it
with you in my company,
for you are my world,
and each new expression feels like
a new and adventurous place
that has just been discovered.

The arms are melting off the clock face,
as you rest your arms upon my shoulders,
and kiss away the marks of time from my lips.

Inhibitions are burned by candlelight,
and resurrected by daybreak.
Let us map each other
like the mountains and valley's of these sheets,
so that our comfort has risen
before the morning phoenix
that so intends to banish our touch
from each other's bodies.
Capture those candles in your eyes,
and I'll spark our fire,
so that the harshest sunlight
could never force us to forget the moonlight
upon our skin,
and those phoenix ashes.