I distinctly recall:
the air glowed then,
in that Brew Yard place,
and the light danced on the lips
of amber bottles
that had measured the hours.
When the music stopped
we left,
and the walk back home was brief.
But I remember
the bristle of gravel under our boots,
the glistening coolness of the leaves we brushed past,
the fragrance of pine, faint and distant,
and the sight of the black and secretive sky
as we walked.
The warmth of your arm then
makes me hold on now, to those too few moments
before the sun woke us.
---------------
