the best times come from the sun shining at a certain angle onto the sheets of my bed.

when the yoghurt tastes good and the granola doesnt need honey.

when my cousin grazed his forehead, when my sister broke her arm.

when i would stare up into tree's 

when they would stare back.

lying face down on the ground smiling,

because there was always the next day, and another.

the strawberries were green, as were our knees and our tshirts, 

and we thought we were the only ones who'd ever lived this way.

when i trapsed with my cousins aboard a pirate ship,

we launched ourselves from the sails, into the sun, onto the toadstools.

when i see them around a tablecloth, wine in cupped hands.

catching their eyes.

theres cake and french toast and peter pan costume in our pasts,

our futures.

when we return to those woods, the youngest of us will pick up a big stick.

we'll all smile at each other.

when the deck makes imprints on my thighs,

when the wind is warm though its the end of march,

and the smell of spring.

when my mind returns to the woods, 

and my hands twirl.

when the moon follows me home.