tracing lines in the dust

I can remember the summer.
running to the car with you in the pouring rain
just to sit and listen to it fall.
Tiny droplets colliding on the windshield
before falling together on the pavement.

I can remember humid afternoons
resting in the shelter of the trees.
You held me against the ocean that was your chest
and the waves that were your rib cage,
Your eyes full of a sweet sort of sadness.

I watched bumble bees, their fat and furry bodies
landing on flowers with a kiss.
A very simple but honest kind of love story.

Some nights we'd lay beneath the ceiling that was the stars,
their sparkling
from a billion light years ago and yet,
they seemed to speak of the future.