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