Santorini 

of the black sand, 

Connemara 

of the rhododendron shores. 

Names so evocative 

that I think of them and youth as one. 

The ferry coming into port— 

the nameless girl. 

Conjuring is bittersweet. 

What lay ahead— 

the possibilities— 

the dreams. I had so many.

`

(and most of them have been realized)