Our meetings were often late at night,
lit by a solitary street light,
on the swings of the school playground.
Butterflies multiplied in our stomachs made everything exciting,
riskier, more of a thrill.

Nights like this were what we lived for,
to be young and alive,
disregarding what our parents thought,
because the truth is we didn't care,
just as long as were together.

We'll always remember when out weekends were dominated by each other,
how they revolved around watching a movie,
curled up on a couch in a basement,
not caring about anything at all,
besides the other person.

How brain racking it was to think of witty things to say
during impromptu conversation,
hoping the other would catch your stare and smile back,
so you could hear the laughter echo in something that once was,
but always will be beautiful.

Memories collect one by one,
all with different but significant meaning.
From the time we walked the beach,
to the time we wrapped Christmas presents,
our smiles were always consistent.

Conversation was effortless,
flowing freely about anything we could dream up.
Tears of joy and sorrow were shed from loving eyes,
but all that mattered was
the other person that we were sharing them with.