I remember I wore my red tunic
and you your glitter skirt
when I recall that cinnamon day.
The sun shone warm and with a fresh season upon us
we set out through the newness,
letting it seep slowly into our pores.
I remember a green canopy above us
when we bought our lunch that day.
You didn't finish yours
but the drinks were cold
and the steps beneath us cool
and I sucked a cinnamon candy as we sat.
Nothing really remarkable but fresh air
and warm sun and us together.
Talking or not talking,
walking or not walking.

If this is to be my life, I accept.
So long as you save a few days for me.
If this is my life,
give me a few more cinnamon days.


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*also for C who wasn't a part of this particular day but who, as well, I am grateful to for enriching my life with cinnamon days.