this is a time
i want broken down into granules of
brown sugar sand
and stored in country lemonade jars
where your hands
tend to be softer
than the flesh of clouds
don't ask me how i'm breathing
when my nose is filled with your perfume
and the sun dances upon your hair
i'm just happy to be here
souls open like windows
eyes intertwined like the tender vines
that grace the skin above your toes
nothing can be finer
than this late summer sunlight
and you
and the crisp air
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