moment

It's in all the old, familiar places. As my breath starts to make whisps of memory in the cooling air, I find it again. I find that part of myself that says "I'll give you everything", for sentimental reasons. Hand  meets hand. Eyes lock and dart away. Transfixed, we remember what it was like to be children and why we aren't anymore. We remember the sort of love that precedes knowledge. The kind that's written into the songs we sang together, graffitied onto the subway walls, and wished for on fallen eyelashes or plucked daisies. We remember that what might not be once in a lifetime still smells like lavendar and silk.