you can’t touch the sky, but sometimes you’re
walking through a golden field, or waking
to the sun’s tender gaze, that old stranger and
new friend, and you remember what it was like
twelve years ago, when your only fickle
thoughts were that new box of cheerios at
home and your mom’s
beckoning eyes.

peace is a reticent friend, and its fingers slip
past yours, a ghostly wind, and soon you can’t
remember its name but its warmth plays with
your hair, that étude of softspoken love, and
the breeze laughs and sweeps the
words right off of
your lips.

on earth i’ve smelled tulips brighter than
embers and felt shimmering nights caress
my arm, but nothing quite compares to
that gentle request:
let’s stay
‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ a second
‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ longer?