eighteen

When I was younger

I dreamt of kissing misty clouds

mysterious hearts

shrouded

then I grew older

and I wanted pure gold

strength and beauty

now I'm only eighteen

I dream of kissing sunsets

warm, hovering over me

light but weighty

mine alone

I don't know what I'll feel like

when I'm twenty-five

but I know that when I'm eighty

sitting in silky, ragged pajama bottoms 

I'll just long for weathered kisses

both sunshine and storms all wrapped into one

my beloved will be every season wrapped into

screams and laughs and tears and smiles

cinnamon buns and coffee and vodka and celery

misty clouds, gold, sunshine and You.