Those were always my favorite,

those barfoot nights.

There is a certain time

in each summer day,

where anything can feel magical.

Just after the sun slips beneath

the vast and ever-restless waves.

But just before the flavor of summer heat

loses it’s sweetness.

We are magic at that time.

Running on the sand,

barefoot, hand-in-hand.

Those nights were always my favorite.

We were intoxicated with sunshine,

from the earlier hours of the day.

Laughing while in a dream-like state,

catching stars and feeling free.

Those nights were always my favorite,

before our happiness started wearing thin.

Before we lost the stardust we caught in summer,

and before we put our shoes back on.