Sitting on a grey, lichen spotted, flat rock
on the side of the trail,
sounds of summer in surround sound -
twitters, buzzes,
here and there the crack of a twig and
a falling acorn,
rustling leaves.
You make me smile
as you pick up an otherwise ordinary rock
that has an odd shape;
you show me.
(I don't know much about geology,
so you are proud to show me.)
And though you are never boring,
I have to make myself listen;
I watch your gentle hands
holding the wonder,
Watch your mouth,
so beautiful to me;
Then I look in your eyes.
Your words do matter to me,
You matter to me,
So I am trying so hard to
try not to think so hard
of kissing you.