Poetry

Firsts

The very firsts of us
are etched in my memory,
like a melody on auto play.

The way your fingers
unwrapped window curtains,
sunrays crowning
your shoulder blades,
midnight stars
falling off your sleeves,
a room full of galaxies
floating in our eyes.

Magic, my love,
is you and me.

The very firsts of us
are etched in my memory.