You are in every flower.
You float languidly through my mind
like small clouds sailing
across the ocean
of a July afternoon.
The back of my hand lies
gently
in the soft grass,
as I recall
the memory of yours
resting
in my palm;
not so long ago,
yet akin to forever.
Even the hot white wall
dappled with apple tree shadows
mirrors my memory
as it shimmers
with recollections
of you.
By Emma Hynes
14th of February 2015
