Summer

I want you to talk to me in intricate ways
that are sharp and sweet,
like sentenced strings of
rock candy in your mouth.
You remind me of those days
that whisper
and sigh contentment.
Moving loosely through the
tendrils of slow hours
I did not know
how much time had passed.
I remember only the brilliance
of your form among the landscape
and the music that slipped
from your throat.