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.