the summer of our first memory

we are simply the early morning sky, overwhelmed
with dreams. the red tongue of a child after succumbing
to the sweet sin of strawberries. the familiar
smell of old books, haggard and dusty after history
latched on to every word. we are the spirit of youth,
bursting at the seams. the song that sticks to memory
like honey. a blank page, painted with the colors of
poems. the train that traces our country's landscape.
the feet that dance along patton ave. we are
the feeling that skirts along the tiny hairs of your
chest when you are mesmerized with love.