Flower Boy

On a soft July eve
I sit in a meadow
And watch the sunset
With my Flower Boy

His hair is soft like white petals,
He is as strong and tall as the stem,
And he smiles towards the sun
But is fed by the rain

He shines with
Simple beauty
One that he unfortunately
Cannot see

And the pollen he holds
In his deep yellow soul
Attracts the fairest honeybee

But the honeybee he does not want,
No,
The flower boy wants me.

Midwestern Summer

The drives home
From the city
Are never as pretty as in July.

The warm sunset catches
My curls and my brown eyes
As my hand is outstretched
Towards the green leaves.

Life is easy
And I am free!
Well, as free as allowed.

I still must follow rules,
Be home by 10 p.m.,
Never go anywhere without the knowledge
Of family or friends.

But, even then
I feel peace,
I feel open,
I feel light.

I wish that my whole life
Could be this easy.

No pre-calculus,
No dissections in biology,
No color theory,
And no essays.

But maybe there’s a reason
That we can’t stay.

Maybe the summer is there as a reminder
That even when it is cold, wet, and miserable,
It will soon become warm.
It will all be alright.