Some nights seem to live on,
like the night I held her hand
on that dark beach with the lights
at are back and the crashing waves
before us. We paused, sat down,
and buried our bare feet in the sand.
She leaned into me, her head
on my shoulder and whispered
things into my ear that I have
forgotten, but I remember that
summer night lone ago when a
brown-haired girl held
my hand and whispered sweet
things in my ear and the roaring
of the waves surrounded us.