First light brings with it
an empty town to play in.
You, wild-eyed and messy haired
Mixed up words and inside jokes
Walk three steps ahead of me, and explain
How you've pulled the pockets from your jeans because you hate the thought of carrying anything with you.
Splintered grass between your fingertips
Makes me feel young again.
I run between trees with you
and we pull down branches to see
How far they bounce back.
It is hours before I realize I've dropped the act.

I don't desire to touch you
But when you laugh I feel the warmth
healing the black and blue bruises inside me.
Touch the afternoon sunlight
ravel it round your fingertips
and drag it down to your cheek.
You are entirely made of stars.