The Fields

In the fields
stranding together a headdress of flowers
white clovers
to catch your daydreams

In the fields
blowing dandelion seeds apart
white parachutes
dispersing them all grants you a wish

pluck effortlessly
weeds from the ground that easily give

In the fields
lying spread among stalks of your fingers
white fragrance
your teeth in a sweet mouth,
I pick a flower to me

nip the stem with two nails
a little sap caramelizes the petals
its veins golden

In these pages
drying and pressed between
white paper
you've strewn petals cleaving to my spine
holding onto our story.