You took me to a book fair once, and I
walked down every row, read every title
my face alive and arms of books.  You must have been bored
but never let on, and bought me every book
that I yearned for.  The sun was setting
amber and gold in a spotless sky, ours the only truck left in the lot
and you let the tailgate down so we could watch the day die.
I wish I could remember exactly what was said
it’s important to know now.  But I can’t,
only recall the smell of warm sun, and laughter;
all the joy the first brush of spring carries.
I didn’t know it then.
Dizzy from the earth-tilt underfoot, I couldn’t comprehend
only knew the sun was warm and the day endless
and I loathed the time when dark would fly in, taking with it
the warmth and my perfect day.
And I realized, for the first time, that your eyes were green.