In northern Europe on Midsummer's Eve

the day is indiscernible from night

so you sit outside at midnight

with loved ones and people you barely know,

eating strawberries and drinking wine

attempting to conjure the spirits

of future lovers from the pine woods.

Imagine how drunk you'd be there

inhaling air off a mirrored lake,

picture how clear your thoughts would become,

you might begin to think you were

a character from folklore.

Imagine the mischief you might get up to

with the sun refusing to lie down

and pulling at the shadows.

Imagine the kisses you could steal on such a conceit

believing morning was never coming

to wipe the slate clean.

Imagine the lies you could tell yourself

If you thought this life

might run on forever.