it was an era of candlelit dreams
we played my piano
harmonizing the evening's laughter
transfixed by starlight
and peppered with too much youth
to catch the fallen minutes
drifting as snowflakes
between our words
its remnants still leave a taste
of Parisian nights on the rim
of my glass - how you toasted
every hour as the sun bled into
the Seine and our blush faded
to overcast with upturned lapels
and footsteps receding into nightfall
Sep 13, 2020
Sep 13, 2020 at 7:11 AM UTC
it was an era of candlelit dreams
we played my piano
harmonizing the evening's laughter
transfixed by starlight
and peppered with too much youth
to catch the fallen minutes
drifting as snowflakes
between our words
its remnants still leave a taste
of Parisian nights on the rim
of my glass - how you toasted
every hour as the sun bled into
the Seine and our blush faded
to overcast with upturned lapels
and footsteps receding into nightfall
Whenever I teach The Great Gatsby, my words turn to green lights at the edge of a dock and glittering stars and eyes that pierce the night with too much honesty.
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