The world contours to our bodies for the moment.
The canary rays of the sun dance on your forehead, tickle your eyelids and highlight your soft, ever-rounded cheekbones.
I briefly place my hand on your forehead but the light just doesn’t hit my skin with the same grandeur.
I swear I will never be as in touch with my senses as I am in this very moment, but I would never have noticed the soft swirling motions of the air had it not worked the front of your hair into a soft tuft for my fingers to push back.
And when the earth inevitably turns farther from the sun, the flickering of its light fades into your cheeks; its warmth captured in freckles.