A typical day spent thinking about a departed loved one. Morning, Noon, and Night |
Deep reds bend the darkness, blending the horizon's void to glow. The sun's coming again, pushing warm currents to tickle my face, like the breath in between. There's light just below the surface of anticipation. Memories carry back your words, settling my troubled mind and cradling in the breath in between. Your voice falls like Autumn -- leaves and syllables paint me beautiful before the growing day for all the world to see. Your lightness rises like the breath in between. I am awake and I can move my bones. Noisy taxicabs and traffic lights blare away my peace. The clock can only crawl. I wait for you to beat again, like the breath in between. Then there you are, filling my chest again. The world drops away, like fading backgrounds in a familiar movie, and the fickle clock unravels faster and faster. Controlling me. I look at the minutes and pauses, they are like the breath in between. You make me stand directly in the sunlight but I cast no shadows. There are no shadows that you can bring. Shadows that hide like the breath in between. The day races down a country road toward the other horizon. It chases the sun away and pulls aloft the moon behind it, a balloon on a string. We'll rest soon, we have to, under that shine. But until then, my head on a pillow happy until you withdraw on a sigh. I want you to stay, but you can't. You can only visit. I close my eyes, more anticipation, and the wheel goes 'round again. Sleep lies down comfortable on my chest, heavy and warm, and I dream in pieces about tomorrow on my breath in between. |