Take a deep breath.

This moment is yours.

This is naked on Kashmir.

She was all freckles and magic.

This girl that lived next door.

Pebbles on her window and she was suddenly there. She took my hand as the moon pinched at our skin.

My heart beat fast as her warmth swallowed me up.

It was back through the garden and the hole in the fence.

On the path I'd made as a boy, nights in our stories.

A thousand times I'd run this trail, but never with her.

On we ran into the silver-spotted black, quick moving feet along the picket-patched paths

and moonlight, sprinkling and sparkling along the picket-patched paths and moonlight,

sprinkling and sparkling along the mossy floor.

Her face was everything that young love should be,

and it swallowed me up with every look.

The stars were alive for us, and we shared them as only young love could.

We ran through moving vines into a painted silver meadow, where we sailed through the tall, milky grass, like a wooden boat through a silver sea, and there we found our castle,

an old stone house where a moss-covered chimney stood alone to spill the

secrets of its life. So on that sweeping grass we lay and spilled our dreams as only young love could.

And when we saw a shooting star, we'd make a wish, and her face would tumble close to mine, a freckled nose as soft as snow. We knew no world

past what we saw, for ours was in our eyes.

And so we lay, with shooting stars and freckled skin, and promised our love would last forever.

...