for Hans, for childhood, for the dance we never outgrew

We didn’t know
that laughter could wrinkle like paper,
or that photographs could hold time
better than our arms ever could.

We were just kids—
hands in the air,
making antlers out of fingers,
making joy out of nothing.
Matching shirts, barefoot truths,
and a room filled with the kind of light
you don’t find in grown-up places.

No one told us
that these would be the days
we’d look back on with trembling hearts.
That one of us would leave
before we finished the chorus
of a song we didn’t even know
was our childhood anthem.

Now, I hold this photo
like a fragile prayer.
You, laughing on the left—
still wild in the eyes,
still whole in the memory.

This is how I’ll remember us:
not in mourning,
but in motion.
In goofy dances and sun-warmed cheeks,
in the echo of a joke
that never needed explaining.

Because for a moment,
we had everything—
and we didn’t even know
we were holding gold.pain.
Just the echo of you—
soft, stubborn, unforgettable.