Your legs slightly bruised
From twigs and tall grass
Belong in my lap

Where you wiggle your toes
With excitement
Over cold, sweet fruit salad

And the purples and crimson
Of sun-now-down
That evade the lens of your

iPhone through the window.
What? you ask half
Laughing at my smile.

It feels like before, I'm
Tempted to say. *I have nothing
More, Your Honour.