The air hums near flowers, where the sun sighs
In the cicada’s sweet song, I heard you
And the light that fell onto her soft eyes
Reminisced of baby’s breath laced with dew.
That flower I held, between fingers, shook
So fragrant were those trying petals, she
Until her heart was pressed flat in my book
So that her perfume, instead smelled like me.
Gold summer air spilled over gentle hills,
Honey dripped slow, from sky to horizon
I laid in the sun, to heat my nerves’ chills;
I could not taste summer’s sweet cinnamon.
I opened my book, her petals had flown
And I dreamt of your eyes, where summer shone.