February 9

This is what I remember: 
chocolate croissants 
the European kind
melting against my tongue 
flakes of dough decorating my lap
as you fed me bite after bite
We shoved wedges of lime 
into sandy bottles
and the sun began to freckle my shoulders
We wiped blood off our ankles 
and pulled sea urchins out of 
the heels of our feet
The saltwater always renewed us 
before my mind had a chance to catch up
Why does time move so much slower
​when nature is the only thing ruling us?