The Garden Prince's Freckles

Spring is blooming 

around me, 

the trees flushing pink, 

the wildflower-shaped freckles 

scattered throughout the grass 

growing darker, brighter 

with the sun; 

The little boy next door, 

our Garden Prince, 

wanders through the daffodils 

waist-high on him, 

smile like the sun 

liquid glass on the lake. 

I want to hand him the crown 

I've woven from fallen twigs, 

the cascading tears 

of the weeping willow, 

adorned with palm-sized clusters 

of apple blossoms 

and forget-me-nots; 

I want to gift him a cluster of freckles 

for him to wear atop his smiling face, 

because his joy 

is one with the spring, 

always growing brighter.