If in your last thoughts before you sleep,
in those lost, vast moments, alone in your mind,
you think of me, just know;
As I drift off the edge,
my mind is filled with
the smell of the forest, as the wind shakes the trees;
the sound of an apple, being bitten by delicate teeth,
the sun’s reflection, cascading perfectly across the surface of a pond,
and the color of your eyes.