you remind me of those days

Pizza cut in haphazard shapes
feet, coated in thick soil and asphalt
the smell of freshly cut grass when my dad walked by

Every Sunday we'd rush to the chapel
where we squished together on cushiony pews.
Id busy myself scratching graphite on white paper
and trace the veins on my mother's hands;

At times moonlight would find us in a rush,
little fingers cocooning fireflies...
We tore about bright green, searching for the floating lanterns
we were free, and utterly content