When yours touched mine, fingertips bloomed yellow petals
that fluttered gently between our breath,
words built raindrops that rivaled the sun,
and I forgot the dahlias of past lives.

This was the creation of springtime-
a fleeting moment of neverending-
a season I had never felt before.
Your hands pulled blankets over my frosted shoulders
and my skin grew sunflowers in thirty-two degrees.