I remember waking up early,
hours before dawn.
Rush to the kitchen,
make sandwiches and yawn.

Pilfer the keys to my mother's car,
and make my way to you.
Your dormitory from my house
was a journey far.

The way your sleepy face would light up
as you came down the stairs,
our eyes would meet,
smile and greet.

In the darkness at the beach,
I parked unobtrusively and out of reach.
Your head rested on my shoulder,
we sat in silence, communicating without words.

The way my hands tangled in yours,
the smell of the morning air,
fishermen by the coast
scavenging with their flash lights.

Then the sun would peek it's weary head,
above the horizon - the night was officially dead.
As my sight adjusted,
I would glance at eternity contained in your eyes.

For a second, that one second we'd never get back,
the atmosphere was just enough,
The sun began to flicker,
and it was just enough bright.

©  2017 José