The dewy grass makes me miss your lips,
as does the rain clouds.
When I see the baby foxes, your eyes appear,
rusty brown like the tractor outside.
Metal roof, where we lay under,
quietly listening to the drops.
You grasp at my warm waist,
pulling tighter like the loose faucet handle.
I crave your delicate peck against my lips,
like the green truck yearns to start.
My hands run through your hair as we lay
in the soft silence.
Dogs running and coffee cooling,
waiting for the sun to crest the hills.
I want this now, I want this later,
I want this forever.