seren J.H. WOLFE

I remember talking to you that day
standing alongside the warm riverbank
I don't remember what I wanted to say
my breath was gone, and everything went blank
it was just us, and to my knees I sank
the world faded away, in its place a dream
scattered petals and clear-running cold streams
buttery soft folds and whisper-peach blooms
a picnic prepared beneath the sun's beams
she fed me homemade pie, humming a tune.