There are gatherings in the forest. The girls in bows spread the jam, the boys frolic, the pool glistens as bright as a candle in the hall. There are embraces, fleeting shadows. The music is distant, and it beckons to passers-by. The light off the coast bleats and leaves imprints on the armoire. It tosses in slow-motion. You're lost to the water.

Impossible to retrieve, yet you return.

Bows and waving. Sighs.