Then

I remember then -
under a drunk moon,
the grass gently cradling me,
as the rain kissed my face
with sharp frigid lips.

It was fall,
musty crisp air,
a wind softly blowing
in a world of silence.

For hours I was lost,
chilled with cold
dreaming it’d take me
slowly into endless silence.

I remember then
with equal fear and longing,
gratitude and loss,
while in my warm apartment,
I gaze again at the falling rain,
wondering if then
will ever come again.