So there is a field of buttercups we sometimes walk through. It reminds me of the morning. This morning there was an aching for you in my mind. Buttercups come to mind golden and glowing as though if kissed by sunlight just for us to walk through.
When I was a child, I placed a buttercup under my chin; amazed by its reflection.
How time passes. Let us just sit in the grass, letting time slip away from us. Block out the world all except you and I.
You are my central core of fire from which I was thrust from this mass of earth under blue sky. You are between me and this fire; my rock and my sun. You are soil and water, moss, grass, flower and tree, insect, bird, beast and buttercup.