by Steven Translateur

At the edge of the Island,
where the waves lick the shore,
and horseshoe crabs snuggle in the sand,
is where August met April and held her hand.

He and she were with companions,
laughing and talking and enjoying the sun,
and hoping of meeting that special someone of their dream,
while they were still seventeen.

They met on line for ice cream.
"Hi," I'm August," said he.
She said, "Both our names are months - I'm April."
Said both of they together, "Maybe this is fate's will."

They compared faiths,
and found that both were nearly the same,
and fell in love and spent the summer assembled,
and by the end of the season, their thoughts resembled.

Fifteen years later,
after college, jobs, and other relationships,
two souls would meet for a walk,
on the magical patch of Montauk.

"This cannot be just coincidence," declared he.
"It must be fate," agreed she.
Realizing that their lives might be a predestined unfolding tune,
they married, had a baby, and named her June.

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