A memory.

The past is beautiful. But you can't take it with you.

We were up on the balcony and it was quiet.

"You know when you look at a star, you're actually looking at it's remnants." I said.

It was a beautiful night out.

"Like it's history?"  She asked.

"More like it's past." I replied.

"Oh."

We said our goodbyes and she left for the night.

As I stood there looking at a photo of us, the only thing I could think of was a star.

We were beautiful-

All in the past.

Reviews

[Robert Trakofler]

A great analogy Mr. Poetaster at the end of that story I am left with a feeling that a bit of that beauty is now bouncing back at the star

[Poetaster]

Thank you so much for that review!