as your teeth burst through the smooth skin
of the summer's first ripe tomato,
still warm from sunshine and sweeter then holding hands,
spiced with the dust from your own earth;
as you lean out to let the seedy drops fall from your chin
and star-burst splatter your freckled toes;
as light and heat slip down your throat, you close your eyes
to watch the memories of soft cotton tea towels snapping on the line,
in the fluff-filled air of endless summer afternoons;
and you recall skinned knees
and the freedom of treetop forts on windy days...
then I think it's easy to know what happiness tastes like.
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