Outside the corner store just beyond
That little cracked piece of sidewalk
A glass case of people oblivious to the world
We would take that path for miles
Up and back with glittering rain-drenched words
Forgetting all the cares until you changed
But maybe it's just me in this poster-hung world
These branches swayed seemingly endlessly raking across the hand, tittilating with every prick of bur and rough edge curving just so to lay across, just whitening an ever burgeoning path in the now lax oozing of granulated sunlight that only just began to slip summer-like between the convalecently inching castles spilling the still fresh springs from their pluming aquifers. They were chalked and charcoal emaciating in the lucid flow of inspired purples, magentas, fuschias, ever fraternizing with the subtler tones of lavender, pink, melon-orange abutting the passionate reds lusting for sable seasons. An entire world abloaze in a non-consuming creation that splayed out from end to end across all vision until it was enveloped by the darker shadows off in the horizon. These moments pass one after the other while great monuments are sculpted into abstract design of ebony and alabaster all windward slanted and more fragile than crystalline geodes yet brimming with fruitful explosive taste, burgundy and leggy but with never far to walk. And soon the streaky blood line crimson folding outward across olive skin saturated with the sultry thoughts of evening chases back the frightened flash of ash as fingers curl to sensate every last pin while leaves twitter and fly and ruffle to caress some reminiscence. Just sandboxes and playgrounds carefully buried in childhood glee, those silent still frame monochromes left etched in stagnant summer twilights' cicadias' cries. The graceful swallowing gales beaming through jade-emerald and aqua-maroon meadows just weaving slither-like through shaded vale to perch in mountain side aeries in arcing cold light left draping by the dusky orange harvest moon.