A summer playground
with sunflowers.
That’s how it used to be.

A soft wind singing
through the leaves.
That’s how it used to be.

On days like these,
I call you, and we go
to a higher place.

A place to carry less,
and touch the sun
in hazy summer.

A place to skip a stone
across the river.
And smile sweetly,
as our lips touch.