Golden Hours

In my head you’re out in the sun wearing a yellow sundress (is that too cliche?). Hair braided but wild, wisps blowing in a bit of summer breeze. Barefoot running through wildflowers, nestled under a tree with a pile of books around you.

This is what I hope after is for you. Wild, free, happy, comforting. Happy birthday dearest person of mine. I miss you like hell.