yellow memories, salt tongues, 

sandy skin when we were young.

we worked all day, until the ocean 

whisked our masterpiece away. 

 

fond days, autumn air,

cold hands, branches bare. 

the swings flew so high

we thought we could reach the sky.

 

highway nights, windows down,

car lights, static sounds.

teenagers lost in their delusions 

of skipping town. 

 

smooth pavement, metal wings,

clicked belts, all it brings. 

i had to look down and remember 

where i was going.