On a perfect daylong ago, in the dream-timeso longthat we do not rememberlate in the gold-brown autumnclad in hats and mittenswe dashed outside to danceamong auburn leavestugging at each other’s hairand scraping fingers on rough pavementcheeks rosywe danced until the fall had filled usand we were whole again

That was before the move, of courseand now that memory is dustthe old house alien with unknown furniturethe garden overgrownthat was before the movebefore I traded blustery autumns and snowfallsfor sultry summers and palmetto bugsand I lie awake in bed at nightreminiscing in silent lonelinesshoping for the oblivion of sleep…

But someone was therethat day in the bullion autumnsomeone bid us standby the bluff, overlooking the citysmiling, bearing chapped cheeks and nose-tipssomeone snapped a pictureso we will not forget

snapshot