We walked while pollen spores in mustard hues drifted in air
that was saturated with the powdery spawn
of wildflowers. The forest path meandered
half in, half out of friendship's barren plane
and though, as year sisters, our hands were stuck with memory sap
my ears leaked buzzing midgets and your throat
was clogged with leaf and bark debris.

Then, amongst the smell of peppermint leaves
and carnivorous moths you donned moss and brittle twigs
and frolicked near nymphs with tendril fingers
that imprinted themselves into your skin, leaving me
with detritus of our notion as dead as stagnant swamp water;
to see skies devoid of verdant canopies together with
a thousand daisy chains to bind us.