He hid near the tree as she danced among the thorns
Watched as her chemical strawberry hair
Bounced on her shoulders through a haze
Of green smoke that smelled like burning lavender
That was shoved into your nostrils;
But in a good way.

Inhaling on a little blue glass tube that bent at the end
His eyes followed her rhythmic footsteps
gazing at her ankles as the dewdrops gathered on her jeans
slowly soaking up her legs
as she stumbled and skipped about,
narrowly avoiding scratching herself on brambles and blackberries.

Her laughter couldn't mask her furtive glances
Over his shoulders, making sure they were alone.
Gently he chased her, through she avoided him
Bright hazel eyes teasing as she leapt away yet again
She was his friend well enough but he knew
She hated when he burned lavender.