holding hands in sunlight with you is perfect as i watch the rays play patterns on your eyelashes. the grass is soft beneath my feet but i am bouyant anyway, and i think maybe the ground is maybe centimetres away from the soles of my trainers. it is blue and green and a tree that looks stressed and bowed, leaning heavy and tired on its side.
squinting because my sunglasses are at home and you smile at me and call me smiler and i laugh harder, then suddenly my face softens and solemnizes because i don't feel frivolous right now and i don't feel like giggling the beauty out of this moment. you look down at me and ask me if i'm ok, and i know with that question that i am, at last, ok.