For some, letting go is as easy as untying a bow on the back of a summer dress
Letting the strings softly slip through their fingers
Feeling the cotton threads and whispering goodbye

The field is filled with hazy summer light and nostalgic perfumes
She licks the wine off her fingertips
And smiles at him with a grin that hints of cinnamon

They lay among the fireflies and junebugs
Minds in faraway places
Hearts anywhere but here

She can hold the sadness that fills his eyes
In the palms of her hands
But she cannot keep it

He tells her that she reminds him of gossamer
She twirls her hair in knots
He touches the strap of her dress