Silky sun drifts lazily through
the soft Sunday air
as sounds of an incoming life together
smile down upon our laughter.
Old family, the ones you barely remember,
the ones you've not seen for years,
old family friends,
the ones your dad went to college with
and the kind who held your stepmom when she cried,
maybe after failing a high school course.
Good food is on plenty a table, 
and good music surrounds your feeling of light.
A few men have poles for fishing, 
a few kids with youth glinting
in their baby blues.
The grass tickles ankles, coquettely kissing
bare toes, nails painted light pink.
A certain blonde sweetheart,
maybe three years of age, 
catches my eye and holds my hand.
She asks sweet questions and clings to me,
tucks a freshly picked dandelion behind my ear.
She wraps me in a tight, smooth hug,
the kind only simply naivete can bring.
This perfect, perfect being wants only
to hold together a broken heart.
While I'm just hoping she wont turn out like us.