The Dirt

I remember that first morning, 

We walked around, my fingers laced in yours. 

The trees stopped us so we turned around, 

and found perfect spot for our butts on the dirt.

Over looking the lake, the water coming up a few feet in front of us, 

Romans One, Romans Two, Romans Three

We counted down the minutes until we arrived back at the doorstep

And there we were the next morning, at 9:30.