memories tend to create emotion
a power matched by few,
memories like ripples from rocks tossed in the ocean
a power found by being an absolute truth

a lack of light made the night opaque,
our mysterious caravan cloaked by the dark
only to break for an invisible cigarette;
an illusion shattered by its ember, and the spark

further down the winding path we slowly made our way
moonlight flickering through the windswept trees,
we turned the our last corner, and they broke for the bay;
dresses only complimented by the saltwater breeze

the stars seemed to dance, to mock other light
while carefully observed by the four on the beach,
waves breaking, and crashing, the soundtrack of the night;
four beach-bound astronomers praying their stars within reach

time never stopped, yet moved not a time,
as the saltwater breeze still swirls in the air
the sun the began his ritual climb,
the rising light, an end-signaling flare;

But the light shines through my window pane,
A rude awakening from the deepest sleep
Her perfume and that breeze, both together, still linger,
As my memories pull me back to our beach.