A Poem I Wrote Called "Lost Memories"

the sun emerges above the charles,

radiating the brisk waters,

painting a peachy pink and vibrant orange.

the reflections twinkle for early risers that stroll past

three hours into my slumber–

a sight that tickles my imagination.

i would remember this moment;

is it now a lost memory?

we awaken and walk to local cafés, 

embracing one another

with subsequent small talk.

eateries welcome us with open doors and tables

and the smell of oozing monkey bread,

flushed by warm tea and honey.

we hear overlapping chatter,

some gossip

by default, 

but also some meaning–

those are the moments we remember.

are they now lost memories? 

reading, writing, and problem solving,

all while planning outfits

and giving advice–

the moments we remember.

are they now only lost memories?

jogging,

the brisk air chills our veins,

our strides warming our bodies.

we count the bridges we pass,

our breaths shorten,

we mumble to one another–

nevertheless. 

our pores drain leftover drops of alcohol,

only to be clogged again soon,

with justification. 

running into dusk,

the sun descends,

radiating the cold charles,

glistening the waters with pinks and oranges.

this time, we are awake,

but now, these are lost memories.