Catching Frogs

I, was the one
whom he was with.
Our glances reminded us
of summer sweat
and silk fingers.
Weaving together
as we both kept
the grasp as we raced.
Blurred laughter,
from one scene to
the next.
Giddy as children,
catching frogs, in
mid summer.
She, was the one
whom I was with.
During the equinox
of changing color.
The brush of leaves
fell, from high above.
As we embraced the
gentle morning.
Before each pupil,
left for the day.
I watched, from two
rows down.
It was the last year.
The last my eye met,
your profile.
That day you left.

Now…

You are whom I was with.
Long ago under canopy,
each afternoon to
climbing dusk.
With our glances,
as you give gesture of greeting.
I can see it in your eye,
that you remember me?