I remember how your hazel-like passageways of sight reflected the golden rays that shone through the waves last summer. The salty breeze of sea air lingered with the scent of your hair. And summer looked exactly like the maps of the freckles etched onto your face.
I still see it. I can still smell it. Everything about you holds a room inside my head-that the grains of sand which mimic your hand, how it passes through mine-keep occupied.
I remember it every time I go back to the beach we met. Every time my memory goes back to last summer, I remember you.
