clouds curl at the tips their edges unmasking freckles of stars but still the sun rises at midnight
she is the sun on weekends coaxing children's toes to bounce along cement streets and elderly women to pass lemonade stands and order "just a cup for the road"
she is my favorite chair to sit in with a good book and a blanket missing a patch of leather that i run my hands across while i read
and when i sit outside with her at midnight when the sun peaks its blonde hair from behind the mountains
i know that she is my favourite person to bounce along cement streets with, my favourite person to pour a cup of lemonade "just for the road" my favourite person to sit with a good book in hand a blanket wrapping its arms around our shoulders my favourite person to hold while we watch the sunrise at midnight