Do you remember,

When we ran through the wildflowers, when you told me your favorite color was a light green, when I picked a light green flower so you could remember?

Do you remember,

When we ran away, when we escaped the hell commonly known as home, when we ran past the cities?

Do you remember,

When our goal was to reach Arizona, because we heard it was beautiful in the country, because that’s where your grandma was raised?

Do you remember,

When we hiked up a cliff, when we looked at the stars, and I taught you the constellations?

Do you remember,

When you stood up, when you stated it was dark, and you couldn’t see anything?

Do you remember,

When you fell, fell so far down, and I screamed?

Do you remember,

When you said, “You can’t see stars in the city,” and those were the last words you said?

Do you remember?