Once there was a boy for whom flowers grew whenever he laughed.
Suddenly he appeared, running beside me with a purple polka dotted umbrella.
I still wore for years and years her love around me like a coat of sunlight.
“Now this is how you grow a garden…”
Somewhere, my boy was seven years old.
The woods are not quiet. They are singing always.
The storm that had threatened all night broke the next morning.
When you are ready, oh glory, break up into the air and see the sky.
It felt as if whole worlds would have shattered.