It’s been 10 years since I stood under a midnight sky,
sand beneath my feet, watching the fog linger above the ocean waves,
while boats of all sizes swayed at their dock.
I dreamt of getting lost within that fog,
of diving beneath the surface to find Atlantis.
I’d watch the moonbeams move with the crest line of the ocean,
a hush filling the air, the world around me going silent.
In that silence, I felt a sense of home and expectation.
But feelings aren’t concrete, they cannot be held or make promises.
I’d walk the few blocks home,
the fir trees surrounding our house suddenly became twenty-foot Sentry’s guarding
a home I didn’t know I couldn’t keep.
Every blade of grass was a burst of hope,
every crash of a wave was a whisper to keep believing.
…and I did.
Then I grew up.
The moon now is just a reminder
that I was damned long before I ever had a chance.