Someone said they love me back, 

and I started to see clouds

in an odd child-like wonder

I looked at stars, and they had tentacles

Houses were growing burgundy vines

and the green in your eyes

was the reflection of a million

crabapples growing neatly in orchards

I heard wind chimes on a hot summer evening

I mixed March and September

into a cocktail of July

and drank it up.

I blinked, and a million years have passed.

I saw daisies, and watched

as they swapped places with bike wheels.

The wind whistled again, and white petals spun

Those rusty gears might as well

have been soft sun rays of spring

pedaled by the turning of time

For a second, I daydreamed

that such a delight was how you would ride

around town on weeknights

On the cusp of that good summer night,

it was either because

I was earnestly sucking on the nectars of all the goodness in this world

or your meadow-like words

that I fall

completely.