Postcard from Mid-June

Summer swirls in shades of gold and I hold its hand the whole time.

We watch fireflies come like fallen stars and we dance with them until the sky goes navy and we have to kiss goodbye. And I love you not the way my mother loved my father but the way that leaves and wind chimes love the wind, the way my shirt loves my back when the sun is beating on it. I love you the way I keep wishing on dandelions even though I learned they’re just weeds so long ago. But have you noticed the way the dew kisses the blades of grass each morning before the sun can see them? These days I try to walk barefoot more often because I know in the winter this will only be frost. And do you still mean what you said about magic? I don’t know how you can’t feel it. But I’ll keep trying to show you.

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