when the storyline began

sometimes, my memory forgets

the lines between the years blur

and there we were (are?)

a hazy snap-shot

hand-in-hand

my pigtails and your mary-janes

leonardo and april

sunburnt on the beach while the fire keeps you warm

and the same song playing in both our backgrounds

my memory forgets

that ours is a new chapter, only recently begun

and your name should not appear on those early pages

and yet, there it is

in a different book

in a different place

in a different time

but somehow

it's the same story.