Fleeting

Gentle sun's kiss and coffee in hand
Bare feet on dewy grass soon changes to the rough scratch of asphalt.
Bird flies overhead and I watch its shadow reflected on the earth
I am in love
in love
with this moment
In a wreck of nights and days, there is something,
something, right about right now.

How is it that it is the little ones
that so often leave an impression or otherwise most catch our attention?
it is wild, indeed, to think that
these are the ones
we remember for far longer than any others.

I do not remember a lot of things
I do not remember whole nights or events in their chaotic entirety.
I do not remember everything I speak or all the words of a school day.
Oftentimes I wonder at the little things I do remember.

the small detail of late night call or a car's midnight conversation
the ache of dancing in a long dress or dancing naked under starlight
the taste of grass and sun where I ran through a field with the dearest of my soul friends
the ecstasy of cool water on my skin on a winter's swim
the feeling of a hand that fit perfectly in mind
the windows rolled down and
the knowledge of love that burned like fire
the feeling of ink in my skin and
the understanding

that its meaning ran far deeper than skin level.

there are the ones who stayed late to make bonfires with our little group of friends
there is poker night and bubbles in the kitchen
there is getting lost on the way to a party and
a car conversation that ended up being more lovely than anyone's crowded living room
there is the night it rained but we ate tacos outside anyway and
tried desperately to carve initials in a wooden table
there is the first song that felt like euphoria and
our faces overcome with bliss
there are broken words and
arms that carried me far more than comfort.

I think back to the things that
I do remember, but
I am overcome in the loss of words that I have for encompassing them.
I do not
I can not
possibly remember them all