Her version of the summer sky was

She was discussing constellations that did not exist
as we sat in my backyard
leaning forward on unsteady lawn chairs,

Always on the edge of our seats.

Her version of our late nights was also

Though I remember every rustle of drape, every fingertip
the owls in the woods and the smell of magnolias

Her version of the past is incomplete (she tells people she remembers everything)
I think she made up stories to fill in details.

I mostly recall the expression on her face,
focused, with one hand pointing skyward

Always expectant and hopeful~

Over there!



for Chras4, by request