kmthing

By day the sun plays in her hair.

He stretches in streaks through the sky,

And plays there in the strands.

By night the stars twinkle in August air.

She lies there wide-eyed.

"So this is life?"

"This is joy!"

This is the drum in her chest,

The air in her lungs,

The thrill of the jump.

This is the best of days,

If she were only allowed to choose one.