And so it began, days and days-days with you. They turned into months with picnics and hours inside cool, cozy pubs. The sun in the sky seemed brighter, hot, for October until the chill.
I don’t remember November or much of December, the accident consumed me, the screech of the tires, and that oak tree was all I could see.
Still, sometimes, there are days, when the sky is cloudless, a beautiful blue and the sun tickles, it warms my skin. I know it’s you.