We went and got lost in the woods,
Didn't we?

Laughing through it all, as we do.
You're beautiful picking blueberries

Like some Eve of Eden,
Not the least bit worried that

We'll lose daylight before finding
Our way,

And cute as Hell when asking if your
Tongue is blue; sticking it out

With your eyes closed.
I brush pieces of forest from your

Shoulder. Somewhere out there
A leaf still smells of you,

The way my hands do now.
I can't stop putting them over

My nose and mouth; agreeing
With the memory of you stating

That we're the most juvenile
35-year-olds we've ever seen.

Lost?
We never were.

Even my doctor says I seem
Ten years younger

Than I did only
Weeks ago.