What May Be Ours

Dipping your toes in the spring,

I held your hand there.

 

Later, I showed you how to skip a rock across the water.

The joy on your face when you got it just right,

I will never forget.

 

To our right, a murmur of starlings

blacked out our piece of the sky.

It wasn't theirs to have, nor was it ours.

 

As the feathered swifts swirled away,

we saw the early evening stars.

They too were not ours to possess,

but the memories surely must be.

They seem enough for me.