You had a way of capturing
beauty with your hands. Of
folding a memory in strokes
of brush and color.
The moon’s calm broke,
spilling elusive shades of blue
over the sky’s backdrop.
I remember how we hurried.
We skirted over rocks and rivers
caught butterflies in our teeth
and squeezed grasshoppers in our toes.
It was minutes till sunrise
when the world was at its blackest.
We were enveloped,
just the two of us,
stolen from the wake of the world.
With slippery fingers
we climbed the crevasse,
hoping arms would not give out
demanding our gasps and split fingernails
can lift us just a little bit higher.
Upon the apex,
we watched rising mist
begin to sink beneath the orange glare
of a breaking sun.
It was the first time you told me
you loved me.
We sat the edge of the world,
hanging our feet off granite ledge
and tried to touch the surreal with
impulsive fingers still flecked
with green and bits of insect.