The dreams you reach for
In these tall trees, bleed
On your three year old fingers
The darkest and sweetest fruits
Hang in high places, others
Reach with ladders.
But together, in nearby fields, we can grasp raspberries
Stain our hands with red juice
You wipe on your white cotton dress
With flowers falling
Past your scraped knees,
And all around us
Nothing but flowers.
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 2:47 PM UTC
The dreams you reach for
In these tall trees, bleed
On your three year old fingers
The darkest and sweetest fruits
Hang in high places, others
Reach with ladders.
But together, in nearby fields, we can grasp raspberries
Stain our hands with red juice
You wipe on your white cotton dress
With flowers falling
Past your scraped knees,
And all around us
Nothing but flowers.
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