“Come, honey.”
Your eyes glistened from the golden sun,
painting sunsets into your eyes.
Only hoping my eyes looked as wonderful as yours did.
You grasped my hand
and pulled me.
We ran through the field
with rows of sunflowers across the vast land,
drops of lemonade dripping down our hands.
Approaching under our tree,
hidden from the sun’s rays;
You kissed me
with lips sweet like honey.
I was addicted.
You spoke in low, soft tones
smooth like honey;
of needing a cure for that sweet tooth of yours.
The sun shone brighter,
as beads of sweat formed on our foreheads;
the heaviness of our breath syncing was thought as light.
Your fingers interlocking with mine,
you kissed me again with those saccharine lips.
“Come, honey.”
James Bowie High School
12