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