on a perfect bed of ivy, she waits.
the winding strands curled
around her outstretched fingers
her pale skin seems to emit light
so soft you swear you can feel it
brush your cheeks, kiss your skin.
the cosmos fall as the tide around her
twined flawlessly with her motions
and when her beautiful eyes flutter open
the world appears to pause its spinning
it, too, drawn by the promise in her eyes.

when you return to your cold cement walls
the sun unable to penetrate the ceiling
unlike the canopy of trees which had surrounded you,
when you feel your ties have come loose
yet you still wind up stuck in the city
you'll imagine her eyes as they were
a vow of eternal summer
you'll feel the frantic rushing blood
and like countless others
you will live in the desperate hope
that you'll be able to find her again.