I stood under the stars last night,
Like so many times before.
Only a slither left inside my little
bottle of Tennessee amber cheer.
I looked out over the water,
At all the town's lights,
Like Christmas bulbs at midnight.
I looked back at the unassuming patch of grass.
I can't see you now, but you still are solid as glass.
We'd laid there side-by-side
perhaps a year or more ago,
Beneath oblivion and under stars.
What more are we than spores,
Floating thin on river surface
As slaves to the universe
and it's endless ebb and flow.
-
Sometimes I don't come here...
Just because the ghosts I see,
the ghosts of you and me.
In the unassuming grass,
beside the house,
down by the sea.
I see them there, lingering so...
vivid, lucid, clear.
Your warmth, I almost feel appear.
I turn back towards the water,
And almost,
Almost shed a tear.

N.H.