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∴

do you remember
when we got to be
who we really are
for just that one moment
under the moon
on the deck
in the silence
far away
from each other
and never closer?

 

there is a part of me
that wants to miss that

as if it were something
we could get again.

 

no.

even the moon
knows that.

 

the sun may rise
and make the days,

but the memory of moonlight
remembers us
to real-er selves

and rises
the corners of my mouth
in thanksgiving.

∴

 

 

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