I wrote this while remembering how ordinary moments, a laugh, a glance, a shared silence—can feel sacred once we know they will not return. It is not a poem about loss, but about presence: the way two lives can briefly align, then drift apart while still carrying the echo.
Once upon a time
as the story is told
We happened,
knowing our love
would never grow old.
No soft‑spoken whispers,
just cries of longing,
taking each other by storm,
for once, feeling like belonging.
In all our desperate cries
of yearning
We knew our time
would not last for long,
for like the summer’s burning
One would soon be gone.
We threw off the guides.
and let go the tether,
making the most
of our summers together.
This began as a memory of one woman, but it became something larger — a reflection on all the women who, like me, were searching for a place to belong, even if only for a short while. Some loves arrive when they shouldn’t, some fade before they can settle, yet each leaves a mark that time can’t erase. We happened once, and maybe that was enough — a moment that still burns like summer long after the season has gone.
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Rambling Harbor 
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