2 years with future strangers

Beautiful.
I’m looking back on it all, on us all—
The trees through the windows and the soft sigh of rainfall,
Calming voices slicing poetry up between us,
A piece for you and me and her and them.
We sipped on guitar strings and bonfire ash,
We threw words at each other—
Conflict, love, and something else.
Beautiful.
How could it be anything else?
We were something golden and spark-eyed,
More than we ever were alone, before we shared that moonlight.
Our faces tilted to the sky, waiting for the sun,
Crying and reaching,
Thoughts looping between us like the cords of
Cat’s cradle, stretched from knuckle to knuckle on some giant hand.
We lost them, us, we, she, he, them,
All of us like broken cloth when old threads pulled free.
Beautiful,
In a sense. Lovely and haunting and I’ll miss them.
Them, us, us all, I’ll miss it.
The silent trudging of weary backs and sleeping eyes,
Smiles, your smiles, our smiles—
Beautiful.
Comradery and silence and the parting of ways,
Ocean to ocean to ocean to ocean to
You to me to someone ages hence.
Strangers then, there in the sunlight,
Threads taut and broken, sliding across miles and fading fast.
To think we used to laugh together, share glances and pens.
To think we never used to see this ending as anything other than
Beautiful.