When I die, press flowers on me.
Wrap my obit around something fresh picked and let me see the look of love again. Fry fish and drain the grease on me so I can be close to family. Turn me into confetti and blast me through a cannon at a festival so I can be a part of the music again. Wrap your ornaments up so I can protect something precious. Compost the rest and plant trees so I can watch my loved ones long after I'm gone.

I think my favorite days are filled with Sunshine, pine trees and hoagies. The way her soul makes mine blush. The peace the trees bring. And food I only eat in the sunlight.

I think my favorite places are the places I've been where the bees bring us Sugar. The way she connects with everything.

I think my favorite nights are the ones where Sunshine fills my arms. She lights up the darkest of them. I'll light the next morning for her.

The best moments are the ones coated in Sugar. Sweet sprinkles in my beard. Where her hand ices mine, and her fingers melt between mine.

I'm so in love with that sweet sunrise. The way I feel when I see her come over the horizon. You keep me warm, you bring sweetness into a bitter world.

Thanks for the Sugar Sunshine.

I find the head of the trail on your left shoulder. My fingers start to walk along the top of your collar and backwards spreading across the bank of your neck grazing your ear.

The next leg starts with a series of fingers repelling down the blade of your shoulder to walk the path across the back of your ribs to your chest.

I'd like to rest for a moment when my fingers make their way down your arm and meet yours near your heart.

Leaving your fingers behind  my hand continues to move along the trail that zig zags across your belly to your hip. They dig in and the mountain moves beneath them before they move along.

The loop starts to turn as the tips of my fingers tease the tender plain that is the small of your back.

The tail of the trail is cloudy as kisses fall between my fingers on the walk up the center of your back.

They make a quick sprint for the baby hairs at the back of your head. They play in the canopy as the rain falls on your shoulders.

I fall asleep with your hand in mine. Dreaming about the trail. About taking a hike with you.

I am a mountain range. For you to scream into. To release your worries into the wild.

I am a music festival. For you to dance into. To cut loose and be free.

I am the beach. For you to play in. For you to be washed in love.

I am the cabins on the hill. For you to be safe. To hold you when you need it.

I am the museum. For when you can't remember. I'll house these memories for you.

I am a vacation. If you need to get away. Bring me home.

You're in the kitchen cutting veggies as the music sets into my mind. A sweet voice sounding through a sugar smile.

I grab a knife and harmonize into it as my moustache widens. The rythym of the cutting board forcing me to sway with you.

The smell of your hair and a *** of delicious filling the room. I grab you and dance while it stews. Let you stir my heart a little more.

Keep an eye on me. I'm pretty sure I'm boiling over. My heart spilling out onto the stovetop. And this is just a dream.