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Laughter rose in our throats like bright bubbles
There by the edge of the glittering lake
Scooping up minnows.
I think of the sun on your wide, wet shoulders,
And the light in your eyes, and your eager voice calling.
Certainty came for us like the tide, slow and steady,
As we drove high along the overpass
Looking down at the lights of the little port
And the hulks of docked ships waiting for their unloading.
Love was too real, almost, to bear
With the ceiling fan casting a turning shadow across the
bed
And the moonlight pouring molten through the window Where mosquitoes thrashed and hummed against the
screen.
We whispered names of babies not yet born
And murmured words like always and forever.
Dream on, no matter where you are,
Or what bright sun, or what dark storm, may cover you.
Those were the good days
And they are carved in the granite of memory
Too deep and definite for changing or for losing.