Hands suddenly against my flesh; its like seeing the color green for the first time. It’s a feeling and my breath comes in ever increasing gasps, the first time I came here; to see this country. With this feeling, like a first kiss, my arms embraced; And I want to write and wanting the ink to flow smoothly from the tip of my pen to the surface of the journal sheet and a new stamp; a dandelion ink stamp with its promise of possibility. Even though the words I write are not as beautiful, not inspiring as yours; I write nothing of worth, value, or profit really. But that is not important…all that really matters is that I am putting words on the page. They are there, permanent, in ink. They are my story waiting to be read or to burst into flames and take to the sky, falling and fading to the earth; sustaining the grass which grows and the dandelions that poke up their yellow heads a midst the colors of green. But I know now that dandelions catch and hold the sun in glass bottles on the kitchen counter and make a hole in your chest where your heart should be. Your fingers start to itch and you ache and think something is missing. Only if I could be more. I hope we are something, maybe you want just a little bit more; and i don’t know what it is. But if love and dandelions hold any weight, just know that I do love you. I always desperately wish to tell you, but i think you have figured it out for yourself. Just as I did not so long ago. Today the rain fell alongside the road, following our course all the way home. We laughed all weekend freely at ease in each other’s company. And if I let myself cry for all the right reasons when I realize my own humanity and stupidity. It was not, of course, all at once for stubbing my toe it was a bit of a struggle; uphill both ways. Although I hurt it in a fever of passion. I am my own worst enemy ad it will be alright. You see the big picture and I admire all the details with awe and wonder. I want to be the who dances every dance with you. To be civil in unity and I want you to be the one who goes with me to find the buried treasure and unlock worlds of unknown adventures. I want you to love and be loved. I love the way you make something beautiful and powerful and meaningful of your life. I wish for you days of hard work and that the work you love; to do it with all your heart and wouldn’t give up for the world. And I wish for you evenings filled with fun and significance and adventure, followed by nights of sweet dreams. I wish for you every happiness afforded. And all I can do is continue to write, hoping you find the meaning in the words. You are the reason and subject of my poetry and if I write the same words over and over again, without reason or rhyme, it would still have the same meaning; and those words that mean: You are simply all my colors of green and loved more and more. K Murphy.