when the lazy, sedative smell of the lilacs come
around the summertime
I always remember
a blanket spread out
under countless blossoming trees
and my parents
they used to be in love, I think
would blow bubbles for me to chase
but I would get distracted
by the pattern of the sunlight on the backs of the leaves
and they told me I couldn't pick them
but I did anyway
there were thousands
and I tossed them to the wind
and she would lean against his chest
I didn't notice of course
I was too young to know
that those lilac days were numbered
and as each bubble popped
another perfect moment was lost
forever