I fell in love.
On a Tuesday.
You were wearing a tee shirt, and worn denim.
I was wearing the same.
Your beloved boots stood out against my faded red converse.
There was no sunset,
no roses,
and
certainly no candlelit dinner.
Just me,
you,
and
the trees.
It was so imperfect, yet it was so completely us.
Of course we fell in love on a Tuesday,
of course it was hours from sunset and
of course the only flower in sight was the precious tulip you had managed to grow in your front yard by the big oak, that was now carried carefully in my smudgy hand.
It was Tuesday and perfect.
