Fountain of Youth

It was the summer of the
Japanese beetles eating off
your favorite tree in the garden;
of you catching them
with nimble fingers
and I with clumsy ones.

It was a summer like any other;
the vigor of spring fruits
drying beneath the sun,
with sparkling waters,
with lighthearted dance.

It was the summer where
the glow of us shone
in the depths of our eyes;
where the world was but illusion,
lilting only on the edges of our thoughts.