Wistful

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I think about you
In shades of crimson,
Peaches soft with fuzz,
Marigolds matching the sun.

I think about you
In the powdered sugar on my cookie,
The way I stir my tea,
The lace on my waistline.

You are everything
Warm and good
And pure
And soft.

You are the tarts my father
Used to bake on Sunday nights,
You are the pine needles coating my face
After climbing to the treetops.

You are the bees landing on my fingertips
In sticky July.

I love you,
Purely.

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