they packed a patchy satchel
with enough snacks
to feed a child army
of two,
trekked though
green-blue forest
spackled with firefly flecks
and second hand moss.
came to a resting spot
on the shores of Mirror Lake
the one place
picnic tables were not
and they ate
in the jagged reflection
of solemn pine trees
he mumbled 12 years of secrets
through a confession booth
of nougat
spat out the seeds
winced at black jelly beans
and she
rested on his knobby knees
sighing with the breeze
face upturned to catch
downward droplets of moonbeam
he was a half-formed pinecone
dangling in the quiet dark
she was some kind of meadow lark
whistling the dawn
no one forgot love after that
no one could remember
what lonely tasted like
anymore.