We would hike up on days

where the ocean swelled and

my guitar was in tune, and we would

go through what seemed like endless fields of lavender —

yet to me were an escape into forever.

I remember we would tread on

paths of dirty trails forgotten,

and interlock our fingers —

my spaces there for you,

and your spaces there for me.

And when we’d reach

those two light towers,

I’d watch them roam around

the far horizon untouched within our dreams,

as if watchers watching with great animosity

and euphemisms said over and over;

on the look out for us,

because they knew that they were ours

and we were theirs;

I was his

and he was mine.