She comes strolling up the front porch steps, still talking about feathers and adventures on the open road.. a broken bicycle trailing along behind her.
We were having this delicious conversation last night.. she just picks up where we left off, teasing my adventurous mind with stories of indie-rock music festivals, and then feeding my imagination by describing the plump, ripe tomatoes from her mom's garden.
I'm standing there in a pair of worn out jeans and a tank.. leaning against one of the pillars in my doorway, watching the morning sunbeams as they trickle down through the leaves.. casting these crazy-beautiful shadows on my bare feet. Summer-time is so incredible,.. I want to scream that out loud.. but all that comes out is a smile.
Andrew Tipton
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