The sun blossomed into the sky,

the fruit in the trees birthed seeds

and tasted so sweet.

The flowers fed the bees,

and dad mowed the lawn

after weeks he avoided it;

he said he could feel your

hands still on the handlebar.

And for days we avoided touching

your car.

And for days the height from the window

to the driveway felt so far,

and you seemed so hard to wake up

even after I laid beside you

and held onto the sky.

Did it ever feel this way, last July?

I wondered if the birds had mistaken you

and given you the hope that you’d fly.

I dreamt that you really did,

and you kept on going,

and you never stopped,

and the summer never went away,

and it never will until you come back.