It was always
a game of flowers
Buttercups
held to our chins
Nodding roses
with their perfume
as we dashed through gardens
Lilacs hummed
laden with bees
drunk on overblown nectar
Dandelion puffs
floating away
from our laughter
lighter than air
Days measured
in flowers covering
the ground
In empty cottonwood branches
Stretching their arms
into winter skies