Mr. Frost was right.
It felt good that night,
laying on our backs
at the end of the dock
looking at the stars.
It took us forever
to find the little dipper.
It was one of those nights
when time slows down
and nothing else matters
but the moment.
I remember thinking I wasn't sure what was prettier
the million stars that seemed to be shining just for us
the way your smile looked in
the moonlight as we talked about nothing.
being everything that mattered in that moment.
When we got home we danced around the house to "Brown Eyed Girl" and tripped over the coffee table in a crash of laughter.
Sometimes in those moments between sleep and consciousness I can still feel your body against mine.
Sometimes I wish you were here.
Then I remember you were just one girl among a handful I thought I loved
and that in the end
it was just an illusion
like a magic trick you desperately want to believe is real
but you can't
because no matter how well you hide or how many times you dance sweetly around a living room at midnight life eventually finds you
and leaves you
with the cold hard facts.
In this way
like a flower in the spring
love blossoms and
It's seed carried away on a cool breeze of a summer day
to land on fertile ground elsewhere. Then after lying dormant
for a time
and withers away again
because after all
nothing gold can stay.