Laying down on the cool, wet grass,
Watching the colors of the sky fade to black,
And reaching out to grab the moon with my small hands.
Listening to the purple waves, crashing into shore,
And waiting for the stars to come out.
Reflected in our eyes are the shapes of disappearing clouds,
And our bare feet are painted with white sand and sprinkled mud.
I return to you each year to respire.