Will you C/C this draft please?

He spoke of the fragrance of smoke burned as sage on a flat stone young, I thought him so wise, and what was inhaled after a rain summer heat, the look of bare feet, and much more. We whispered our names into flames rituals, covenants, carved initialed hearts on trees under a crumbling bridge we laid the ground was damp but we made what we thought was love For the first and last time.