Reaching Back
Saundra Sharp

I keep reaching back for the magic of those first few days when we found each other.
When we discovered that we both liked mayonnaise on hamburgers medium well done,
And neither had ever read Wuthering Heights.
When we concurred on the agonies of war and disagreed about the importance of being earnest.

When your touch was gentle, and your eyes bright
As you told me about taking over new york city before it overtook you.
When you ran your fingers softly through my hair,
Asking if it was all right to mess it up
And needing no answer.
When I made you laugh,
And your laughing made me feel so good.

I keep reaching back for that exact moment when you reached for me
And I came into your arms for our first kiss --
Hesitant, unsure, afraid to be too eager,
Very happy to be there.

This fairy tale gone bad,
This sweet spring fruit withered before ripening --
Is it that the flower blossoms too quickly, and therefore closes too soon?

Or are we too strongly molded in our separate worlds?

I keep reaching back, reaching back for the magic of those first days when we found each other.

I keep reaching back,
and grasping --

nothing.