Our thoughts flitted around like hummingbirds in a meadow
frenetic
filled with life and sound
a kind of music
the too-quick beats of tiny, fragile hearts
a haze of red and blue
green
never settling on a single subject,
but sampling them all
love
trust
sadness
death
the search for higher meaning
or something less defined
why should we have just one conversation
when we can taste everything?
