Remember when we used to wander

around the neighborhood and get lost

in the woods behind our backyards?

The emerald land was our kingdom,

and the maple tree was our castle.

We hopped across the stream, relying

on jagged rocks so our shoes wouldn’t get wet,

but falling in was inevitable; the feeling

of cool water splashing against my skin

was a trademark of the summer days

that melted into summer nights, when we sat

outside and watched the sky change from blue

to blazing orange to blue again. Fireflies,

like the specks of gold in your eyes, lit

up the night, piecing together a mosaic of stars.

We had about a thousand days like this, until

you slipped under the horizon and never

returned; at least I still have our kingdom

and castle, where our names are carved on the

oak tree inside a heart as big as your own.