The sun set from your window

Remember standing in the window

of your bedroom, looking at the sunset?

I do. I always loved the picture the sun made

as we stood in your living room, watching

as it sank below the tree-topped hills

rolling into the distance past your house.

 

So you pulled me up the stairs

because you said the view was better

there. I pressed my nose against the glass

and wished to slow the rays of color fading

into dusk, wished to lean back and rest

in your warm arms, wished to fall

back in your bed where I belonged.

–Just something I’m working on. Not there yet, but something.

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