by Jack James
In my arms, you slept so still and silent as the morning crept over the mountain.
From within the bundle of fabrics I held so close to my chest,
your gentle breathing beckoned the first light as the chill of the night faded and the strange warmth of October in the morning embraced us.
In the struggling warmth I stood tall and renewed,
my sins and failures washed away with Summer and the decayed leaves beneath my feet danced away in the breeze as a reminder of the days I longed to hold you.
The storms that waited ahead for us appeared so distant as I looked down on you while you lay still in all your innocence like untouched snow.
The trees came alive that morning with the birds singing a welcome melody that entwined with the smoke rising slowly from the chimenea; the smell of travel, romance, comfort, and despair.
All of which lay waiting for you, between the storms we’d weather in my strength and yours.
Now while I gaze over the years,
too fleeting were those moments while my sweetheart slept and we laughed and played like the afternoon was eternal and no horrors existed to plague us and now they exist in memory like
a Polaroid photograph in a dusty attic box.
While you run down the alleyways and boulevards in drunken ecstasy with beauty by your side as the nights grow old amidst shouts and laughter that echo through the starlit skies,
you’ll forge your own memories and I’ll forge the last of mine.
The darkest nights are rarely the worst in youth as you embrace the time you have and love like the world will one day cease to spin.
All wrapped up in a decadent decade that’s yours for the takin is the time of your life. And with it, the storms we will weather.