Sometimes your eyes have so much moving behind them,
I long to pull you into a field of buzzing wild flowers to listen to the grasses sing.

Sometimes I want to save you,
From the stones placed roughly on your chest.

But sometimes,
The answer is a baptism of hot bubbly water,
And silence,
Or noses pushed gently into sweaty necks,

Or best of all,
Vanillary skies arching over us like a tunnel of clouds and birds and blues and the sun is serene and bursting,
And our hands are lifting one another high, screaming from our lips,
'Isn't this great? I love you!'
As we walk together,
With ours eyes open,
And look up,
And listen to the grasses sing.