The time we have
is not endless.
It cannot be counted
Like the tickets we won
At the County Fair.
It cannot be felt
Like the sun
On our lotioned backs.
We cannot hold it
In a jar
Like the fireflies that
Danced around us as
We lay in the grass.

We have only
These few months to smile,
To be free as the waves
That washed seashells on the
White sandy beaches.

This summer flew by
like the final sparks
From Harry's wand
That shot across the sky
And formed the stars
That we camped under
That beautiful night.
We laughed around the campfire,
Eating s'mores and gasping
In horror at the ghosts
That hid in the whispering trees.