Pregarden Mayflowers

I have no words and innumerable sounds of how to rain and how to push the first lilystable down webb green crying, touching on pregarden mayflowers that burst fundamental emotional weather. I am crying to be four years old in lina dreamspring when times like warm april nights touching our tongues to distant stars, dreamstars we tell each other at night, showing by wordless smiles that we still care. Showing by the space between our faces that we will forever. Showing by the light in my eyes just how much I love you...