He was born in August
Despite being surrounded by summer
He was susceptible to sadness
When he walks he goes heart first
Feet after
He speaks with a pencil
And a sketchbook
Always placed in his back pocket
Its outline is engraved in the denim
There's courage on his eyelashes
Despite the long cold winter
His flowers grow back relentlessly
Every
Single
Spring
He lets them grow wild
Since others trim theirs back

He finds another
Tends to her sadness
Waters her flowers so they can grow wild
Too
Always hers first
Even if there's not enough water for two
In return she carries some of his sadness for him
After all it's grown heavy

He was born in August
Sunshine in his hair
There were no clouds in the sky
Because he was holding on to them for us
Carries them in a jar
In return the wildflowers thank him for it
They grow thick on the forest floor so he can rest his head
While he sleeps
They sometimes withdraw a cloud
Absorb the sadness into their roots
And leave him nothing but the silver lining
"So you know you're loved"
The wildflowers whisper
"So you know it has all been worth it"