the watermelon juice drips down your chin,
the seeds scattered across kitchen tile,
the afternoon sun catching your smile,
your sticky fingers interlaced with mine;
the ceiling fan circles above our bed,
the sheets tangled around sunburned legs,
the ice cubes melting in sweating glasses,
the cicadas singing through window screens;
your hair smells like chlorine and sunscreen,
your shoulders freckled from afternoon naps,
your laughter echoing across still water,
your shadow stretching longer each evening;
we eat dinner outside after sunset,
we count fireflies like scattered wishes,
we argue over whose turn to refill,
we fall asleep to distant thunder;
the neighbors' sprinkler hisses nearby,
the charcoal smoke drifts between houses,
the porch light draws moths in dizzy spirals,
the night air finally cool against skin;
