At Summer's End

I remember when we built Easter baskets,
scarecrows, and sleighs
rather than castles in the sand,
as if we could have all the seasons at once,
knowing we could not.

We would make small fires at night
and dare the island breeze to put it out
so we could cover ourselves
body upon body, and still be warm at summer's end.

We would silently mourn each falling star
as we knew they signaled the time
when tides would wash away the tributes we
had built for lasting love.

~Bobbie Kilzer Gogain