To you and you and you and you.)
Touch
Can we meet again
under trees that whisper with the wind?
And pretend like we didn't touch
yesterday
Like we aren't dancing
tomorrow.
Waiting for your skin
is like waiting for the sun after the winter
to lay upon my cheeks as
waves sink into the sand.
A songbird humming for the first time,
our lips saying goodbye for the last.
~tomorrow