He feeds me cotton candy. He listens to my sob story. He tears down the moon, for a spotlight to dance in the sparkling blue-green grass.
You said we could dance for hours on that dewy lawn and lay on our backs until the midafternoon.
Then you said, “Na don’t leave on rays of branches” And you had me promise to look up into that clear sky for the vapor trails; in hopes that we will escape the vanity.
And when I finally go, I know that we will cycle back into that weekday. Until once more, you will feed me cotton candy and listen to my sob story.
Photo & Poem: Naomi Saharski W.