Saturday, April 18, 2009
You won't remember this day. The light shinning too bright and brilliant through the trees. The cool grass we lay on while we sang The Itsy Bitsty Spider. And you won't remember how you got up and then hugged me, laying on top of me while I kept singing the ABCs and This Old Man, your head on my heart and your heart beating so near. I wish you would, because I will try and remember that feeling forever, of you resting on me and me resting, too, singing in the afternoon.