Summer 20XX

I still recall the smile I've immortalized in longhand

and held still in photographs; do you remember that summer

when we've talked of our dreams and were flung to our

newfound world of idealistic desires? We marked the trees and benches

of our youth once-upon-a-time. I was struck

with that moment of permanence (or should it be permanence of the moment?)

and suddenly, we were broken off of our reverie.

Holding on to my paintbrushes is futile

(being that artist I can never be)

if I only have blacks and whites for painting

my newfound world where you're not there;

maybe you have taken hold of your own little world too.

Maybe someday they would meet again (or crash, probably).

Maybe then, I could have found the orange and yellows

and reds and blues to sketch my reality anew.

(and still, at the back of my head, I pine for that rare shade of russet

so as to keep remembering that summer when we were still

foolish little children.)