it would be weird if i said

that kissing you feels like

too many melted icecream

summer nights and

scraped knees and elbows

swinging heels over porch edges

*click* “just one more *click*

"one more and then we’re done"

*click* “i promise” *click*

"go change your dress,

that isn’t the outfit i picked out for you”

just a bit too much on my dinner plate

"don’t get up until it is empty"

"it’s my turn to pick a channel!"

"no give me the remote—ow!

i’m telling on you”

*sniffling in the dark*

i know he still loves me

even when i am bad

and in the morning there will be

cartoons and laughter

hide and seek—

"hey that isn’t fair

not the way you play it

i don’t want to play with

you anymore”

*returns tomorrow*

catching crawdads in the creek

mud-caked toes

mosquito bites

lightning bugs

rustling trees

children’s books

messy fingers

joy.