ring headband

We are descended from flower children, crowned in circlets of daisies and wanting for no other jewels. We lie carefree in golden fields, growing disorderly and divine, weaving chains, rings and anklets of blossoms.

Grasses tickle the napes of our necks and wildflowers bend their heads to hear our poetry. Each treasured passage is marked with pressed blooms, so we know we can always return to that page, and this day.