The butterflies flying off the pink lilies of our garden are your smile.
And the lilies are dancing, dancing.
The dew of your petals tingle my skin,
Fresh earth entangles my ol’ factory again,
Robins chirping along and singing a song that only the kindest of ears can hear
My hands grip the root of those precious lilies
And then—almost instant—I can picture those butterflies prancing, prancing.
Travis Barker, circa 2016 at the Hollywood Bowl is where I’ll find you.
“Finna” go and enjoy the show where the California album makes you jive.
Your stunning adoration of Star Wars films is the moon rising to cascade its beauty on those that need it but haven’t yet realized that they do.
The lilies are still, still.
“I love you, but this movie is so boring.
I mean, they would help you, but you got an axe in your back, son.”
Once the Sun hits the flowers, they cower back into themselves and reject the taste of water.
One day, you will find—and this I am certain—that in our house, you will always breathe in and out with a smile upon your face. And I will kiss you to widen it.
Canfani loves you and always has, and loves your dad jokes even when they are inconvenient.
Jacob is flying and hooting about how beautiful it is to float in the air.
The purple grass tickles your belly.
The ground grumbles at your newfound power and I watch in astonishment.
Look at what you cause.
(Anata wa watashi no bōken no nakamadesu eien ni Jakobu—You are my sunshine, Jacob.)
I am not kidding; don’t look at me like that—I do love you!
The butterflies are sitting on the petals, now.
And now, the Sun opens your petals.
Author Bio:
Canfani Oliver is an aspiring writer from Pasadena, California and currently attending college majoring in English. Canfani hopes to publish fiction and creative non-fiction works. Canfani has a tabby cat named Ziam and loves to sing.
And the lilies are dancing, dancing.
The dew of your petals tingle my skin,
Fresh earth entangles my ol’ factory again,
Robins chirping along and singing a song that only the kindest of ears can hear
My hands grip the root of those precious lilies
And then—almost instant—I can picture those butterflies prancing, prancing.
Travis Barker, circa 2016 at the Hollywood Bowl is where I’ll find you.
“Finna” go and enjoy the show where the California album makes you jive.
Your stunning adoration of Star Wars films is the moon rising to cascade its beauty on those that need it but haven’t yet realized that they do.
The lilies are still, still.
“I love you, but this movie is so boring.
I mean, they would help you, but you got an axe in your back, son.”
Once the Sun hits the flowers, they cower back into themselves and reject the taste of water.
One day, you will find—and this I am certain—that in our house, you will always breathe in and out with a smile upon your face. And I will kiss you to widen it.
Canfani loves you and always has, and loves your dad jokes even when they are inconvenient.
Jacob is flying and hooting about how beautiful it is to float in the air.
The purple grass tickles your belly.
The ground grumbles at your newfound power and I watch in astonishment.
Look at what you cause.
(Anata wa watashi no bōken no nakamadesu eien ni Jakobu—You are my sunshine, Jacob.)
I am not kidding; don’t look at me like that—I do love you!
The butterflies are sitting on the petals, now.
And now, the Sun opens your petals.
Author Bio:
Canfani Oliver is an aspiring writer from Pasadena, California and currently attending college majoring in English. Canfani hopes to publish fiction and creative non-fiction works. Canfani has a tabby cat named Ziam and loves to sing.
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