Black asphalt

Damp bicycle tires

Sparkling trees

The whole of the street scene is blurry and softened

As though covered in a layer of oil paint

The barefoot laughing, no-longer-dry-mouthed children are dancing in backyards

Kicking up mud and dirt with reckless abandon

We dream of moments like these

So soft they live on in memories  

Like down feathers on strong wide wings

Sweet-smelling, heather-scented moments

These moments of gentle, dawn-colored rain

Can you feel how your withered heart opens up?

It's ready to heal