Modern Romanticism

After dark,
after we went out,
did we release
all of our unease?

I release a teardrop
like melted wax,
upon that familiar path
our feet, that wander,
had always tracked.

Tracing our history
in those sands of time,
on flat shorelines
where an ocean drinks
overlapping timelines.

I come to you,
to your awakening,
under a serene sunrise,
asking for your hand
to take a promise of mine.

I do not ever wish
for you to relive
all that others
did not provide,
did not give.