This is a poem to set the mood,
Mid-June,
full moon,
getting drunk on the roof.

The wind gently blew,
as the fireflies flew,
all around us,
like the seeds
of a dandelion
in bloom.

There we were,
young and in love,
not the slightest idea,
of what was to come.

We were foolish and naive,
but we were happy.

We were reckless and insane,
but we were happy.

How I wish to go back
back to those days,
those days that they call,
the honeymoon phase.

Though our love still burns,
and stronger than ever,
I still wish we could be young
and drunk
and sitting on the roof
together.