Sentimentality

His red hair is reminiscent of the burnt burgandy brick

Of the house across the street from the one I grew up in

His eyes as blue as the pool I spent long summer days splashing around in

His fingers weave in through mine like cat's cradle

And his kiss takes my breath away like I always hoped it would.

When he smiles at me, I get those middle school butterflies

And I can't help but blush when he tells me I'm beautiful.

I lay my head on his chest and in his heart beat I hear

The rhythm of double dutch against the hard pavement of the school yard

He holds me tight, and as we drift to sleep

I can't help but wonder if I'm in love with him

Or the nostalgia