There's a cardinal over your shoulder. It looks like an ember from the forge of Hephaestus grew wings and took flight.
It's perched upon the fence we painted green last year. You wanted cranberry.
Salmon colored clouds smeared sparingly over a lavender canvas.
You bring your crimson tipped fingers up to squeegee the sweat from your brow.
But I'm looking at your eyes. I want to see where they fall when you're done telling me about the blue bells.