不知道她还有没有在写诗了，如果有，说明她又恋爱了。

I want to lay barefoot

on a grassy hill

under an endless sky

blue as my eyes

with you by my side

my hand tucked in yours

and summer's last breeze

sweeping over our bodies

as we find pictures in clouds

whispering the stories

that float with them

it was made for me...

sometimes i get butterflies in the way he looks at me… in the way he kisses me. in the way he says 'i love you.' in watching him laugh…in knowing that my head rests in the perfect spot on his chest-like it was made for me…

and i breathe him in, the scent heavy on his neck…in his clothes, on the palms of his hands. i breathe him in so i'll always remember…and never forget.