I Love You

We danced in the cut grass
and spring rain, a dance to
the music of our imaginings,
childhood innocence singing in the dawn.

I love you.

We laughed and clapped at moths
with chubby fingers, ghostly
in twilight, and spun until
we were so dizzy we couldn't breathe.

I love you.

We flew kites on the beach
and left unfinished footprints
in the soft sand, until the waves came
and washed them away,
leaving smooth grains,
a blank canvas.

I love you.

We emptied our wallets
in midsummer carnivals, buying
sweets and gummy lozenges
from greasy booths, sticky mouths,
soft kisses.

I love you.

We stood at the secret pond
tucked behind alders, and threw
bread, chewy and stale,
to ducks who delighted in
discarded scraps,
preening their feathers in front of
two who only had eyes
for each other.

I love you.

I brought you glow in the dark stars
to light the strange room
they said you had to sleep in,
and sang a lullaby to make you forget
the beeping machines.

I love you.

I stood and watched the rain
in front of the stone
with your name on it,
as if the drops could appease
my aching chest.

I miss you.

I laid down in the fields
and watched the clouds go by
like sailing ships.
I heard you laugh and I smiled,
because I knew
you must be riding one.

I love you.