Days drip warm honey colored sunlight through verdant velvet cutouts maple and oak. Your wheat stalk hair and China rose cheeks sweat beads a diadem while wind-chime laughter rises on the breeze I click you into a memory already overexposed.
Katelyn Botsford Tucker is a teacher and writer. She paints, is often caffeinated, and absolutely terrified of outer space. You can find her on Twitter @KatelynBotsford.
Moist Poetry Journal 