Four seasons, twenty years past
You fell into me like sweet summer corn into hot melted butter.
After the first red leaf fell I knew you were a tree to climb swiftly.
Snow melted on our tongues while our hands drew circles under wool sweaters.
In Spring, all of life pokes painlessly through ice and earth: grass tips, your lips.
And a bonus sentence...
Kissing underwater, sharp stones and snail shells steal my breath from your lips.