A summer’s day ending like no other:
Our red canoe did float upon the lake ,
a bridge with lit candles seems to hover,
rustic edges glow, burning all that’s fake.
As I tip toe up the bank in my heels,
the white dress I chose to wear does flutter
against the tiny flames as they reveal
the mood of the night—my heart does stutter.
‘Twas a night never to cast or disgrace.
A night of clinking glass filled with bubbles,
laughter and joy never to lose to waste.
Our held hands erased all of our troubles.
The moon thrived as the dark sky’s chandelier
promising not to break our tender sphere.
About the Creator
Sarah Durrer
I majored in Nonfiction writing at Allegheny College, and now looking to get back into the writing game. Let’s see where this goes.
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