The sun went down last year
and I can still see
your shadow under the apple tree.
The grass doesn’t seem to grow right,
and that star in the far left
won’t shine like it used to.
But it’s okay,
because you feel better.
And if I held the world,
I’d feel pretty damn good too.
But I’ll never hold anything better
than this blade of grass
in these hands.
So go to sleep,
and wake up with the sweet scent
of summer in your room.
The birds won’t stop chirping.
Shut the blinds.