“Fairy Lights” by Mark Nyman

Memory and Nostalgia, 

What fragile, bittersweet sensations

that can flood us with dormant emotions

that we thought we had long abandoned. 

Rummaging through old things, 

I found an innocuous item. 

A small string of fairy lights, 

A yellowing warm tone when lit. 

Small trinkets of the past

hold power and sentiment 

that, within one ineluctable moment, 

bring us back to what we have lost. 

Last summer, these lights were in a mason jar

Lighting up tables at my friend’s wedding, 

He was an old manager from work. 

I invited a dear friend as my plus one. 

A friend who I’ve loved ever since I met him. 

A friend who I’ve had a crush on.

A flame has burned and a light lit

That has yet to fully extinguish. 

These innocent moments, so small, 

So inconsequential,

He took the lights out of the mason jar and handed them to me, 

“Here, put them in your pocket.”

He gave me a mischievous, yet endearing smile, 

I perceived a glint in his eye, 

“Keep something to remember tonight,”

He said warmly. 

We walked outside to a garden area, 

There was a fountain and the moon was out, 

Half full, bright, shining through the trees. 

I stood there watching the moon. 

He stood next to me for a moment, but

Sat down on a bench to the right of the fountain. 

I lingered, taking in the image of the night. 

I wanted to paint the memory in the canvas of my mind.

Standing in time and space at peace 

I breathed the moment in, held it, and let it go. 

The moon, the fountain, the garden, the people, 

Him. 

Briefly, for a second, I thought he looked at me. 

I wanted to confess my feelings for him that night, 

But the secret remained, held tightly by the moon. 

A year later, the fairy lights still work. 

I turn them on, and their light still graces

my face, but now the pain of what never was 

reminds me of what never will be. 

A year later, the one I wanted 

broke my heart without even knowing

A year later the feelings still burn and

remain unrequited, locked away, never shared. 

All of this just from a trinket, a brief moment

That forced me to tears of knowing that 

he will never love me in the way I love him

At least, this is what I convinced myself. 

The feelings remain carefully wrapped, 

I’ve left this memory in a box 

thinking hope and love would decline.  

Somehow, the lights still shine. 

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