The Days of Our Innocence

remember making out by the pier I twirled your hair you drew ever near to touch the hand of innocence frozen in time the frost on the leaves pressed for closure nearer ever nearer one hand to hold a heart will mend the Cedars and the Oak makes an idol and bows down to it through days of yore, a tug at the heart will light a spark to what we need to go sort to inflate the common ego your sins like the morning mist caressed by a kiss