this green feels blue.
it smells like lilacs and lavender,
like the vanilla and the rose bushes we passed
on our way here.
you smell like jasmine.
and it's braided in your hair,
now,
as i'm kissing you,
your fingers and your cheeks and your laugh,
cotton soft.
marshy.
soft.
you smile and say that you are shy.
the mud smears against my overalls as we lay down
and spread our hair out so it
covers the grass.
this green feels blue but not with you.
we shake our hair out
so we get rid of the twigs and the daisies.
you kiss me one last time
as the gold leaves the sky and it is instead
sapphire. your eye twinkles.
we walk back up the valley to collect our
things from atop the hill.
how could i be blue when next to you?
— our trip to the clearing.