Layered Fragments, Becoming Whole

She smiles 
a picture of you 
made up - from an oven 
wafting blueberry
muffin tops 

she didn't know that 
you don't like them. 

Through open windows, 
sun streams 
against squinting eyes 
You’re the sun
and they're the 
s t r e a m s on lucky charms 
artificial 
colors melt
seeping into wholesome
milk 

and
she's your spoon

unlikely