You lift me to savor cherry blossoms, our young faces blush ripe apple. Our baby girl giggles, raises the tall stuffed giraffe we
It rains down. Love, I will not marry you. I haven’t been asked to though my answer spins so, as the girl in sneaker-skates
There is no fording that wide river or even seeing the other side, the ferry’s terminus. No promises only memory: I can’t live there.