Red bricks
That is what I see now
when I think about it
Sitting there watching the sun drop lower than the mountains
On that newly cut grass
Crisp but comforting
Laced with hope and simplicity
Where the jigsaw pieces of my mind all fitted perfectly into place
And the dark tangles in my brain were still made of plush red silk

If only being happy was more of a challenge...
That might have made it a nicer evening
If instead of red bricks to catch the dying sunlight
There had been bullets to dodge
Or a war to fight  
Maybe that would that have made things better for you

But the snapshot I have made of it must be askew
there are things I certainly don't remember saying or doing
I doubt there even were any bricks there that night
More likely some sort of red contextual bookmark
Or maybe a romantic symbol in the whirlwind of worlds that exist inside of my head