Good Morning

Oh how tire marks scar your faces
you've been running from sunstruck spaces
for baby centuries now.

I'd shoot stars for you
'till the clouds would bleed wet glitter,
and we'd dance in the rain with our shoes off.

Yes, the gardens say hello,
kiss me gently and make spring jealous,
'Cause for gold we're good to go.

i adore the second stanza.