They sat for hours in mosquito,
ridden grass, her front lawn.
They sang songs about love,
songs about truth,
and songs of virtue.
In their sacred solemnity,
they coveted the murderous hot sun,
as it began to descend,
drowning under mountain cover.
The sweat from the day,
dried coolly on their bodies.
One of the two became cold,
shuddering once and leaning on the other.
The other laughed, holding her hand impishly.
They continued to sing and encountered the moon rise.
The night came too fast
and I had to go home, leaving you there.
I bid you farewell
and wished you well.
I never told you that I wanted you to go with me,
almost more than anything.
Dawning Creations 