For Matthew

So many nights have passed
folded into forgotten corners of my
forward moving mind.

I remember when you held me
as I cried longing
for more crickets
and sleepovers
and pajama days.

I'm too old to be held now,
but my feet still kick in a lake
too big to know
and the kiss of a stranger leaves me feeling...
what?

Miles upon miles
hoping I won't get there;
that my feet won't know when
to push and pull.

Crazy how each eternal summer is
just a blink and how
people are never the same.

Our heads fill with water and
ridiculous things
and we forget the familiarity
of the lightening bug,
the grass, and the trampoline beneath our feet.

Funny how the heat makes us
want something more.

Something about the late nights
and the fusion and fission of
friendships that push us forward
in these few short months.

We search for meaning as our
feet push us on, reluctant
to find ourselves lost.