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that flower crown
around your head
just screams coachella,
those long auburn locks
draping your back
canvasing your slender waist,
flowing with each breeze.
why are we like this?
my head is spinning,
& baby this is woodstock;
we showed up for a good time
now we've made history.
you've got royal blue berets
in your neatly groomed mane.
the sky above us is calling out,
singing a lullaby -
more like a siren song
luring us deep into danger,
but god damn it,
i'm not turning away
your faux-fur jacket
matches your knock-off
designer clutch,
full of old coupons,
long-expired credit cards,
your personal identification,
the contents of your life
all fitting in your hand
and dangling from your wrist.
god bless this place,
because your beauty-
it amazes me,
& babe, hold my hand
just a little whole longer.
& babe, hold my hand.