I sat on the new park bench, young and full of unpacked hope.
It was so new, it felt almost slippery.
And fireworks blared a divine beauty.
Looking up, I felt tears start to well. Why it was, even now I could not tell.
Blissfully ignorant to what lay ahead. Branded in memory, are the words you said.
"Isn't this nice? Let's come next year too!"
For us both unbeknownst that this would be the last.
As henceforth, we would undo. And long would I, to again feel the past.
Yearning to return, I visited the bench again. Many years after our artless exchange.
Our simple spot, covered by rust. Yet the pit in my stomach was unchanged.
Lost in wonder for what could have been. Crossed for a moment, were our paths therein.
Unaware, life would be so fast. Yet longing to return, to a night long passed.