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.