bathed and incased in a wall of sound
beneath the falls against the
high
walls
is where we first met, watching saturday
turn into sunday, our hands intwined
with the rhythm of
time
it felt like some long lost summer sunshine
the kind you could put in a box
and save as a
souvenir
only to be opened many years latter
sunshine still
intact
that box now sits five feet high off the floor
on a shelf by my bedside and even
though it has not been opened
in many
years
there are days when i'm tempted to peek in and
feel the warmth of it's orange glow
and to remember how your lips
tasted
that day when they were baked in sunshine
and glued to
mine
it's 2023 on a sunday morning 20 years latter
when i awaken to the sound of water
running down the
walls
carrying a small box in my hands i move closer
to the edge of the falls and at the moment
when the sun lights the
earth
and light gives birth to the new day
i open the
box
