we go out after the first storm
like explorers in new terrain, and
these steps are gentle and uncertain,
this world is new.
it is still grey but you point to a patch
of sun between the clouds and say,
that's what you look like beside
everyone else and i used to think
i stuck out like a **** in the midst of flowers
but you make me feel like i am a butterfly
amongst unchanging caterpillars.
a gust of wind pushes rain drops off the
tree leaves - they cling to your mouth like
fresh dew or sweat beads, and i
want to kiss them clean