Blooming like the blush of early skies
I sat cross-legged in the meadow we made
Bare feet and that old floral dress
I strung a necklace from the beads of dew
I painted my cheeks the sweet rose of skies
Played make believe that you were there
Poured a cup of tea in chipped china
Sipped slowly while daytime sunk soft behind the gloried green hills
In the sheer golden nonsense
Of falling suns and rising stars
Of beating hearts
Born from the fiery dust
Of that very same light,
I see you.