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Jason J. Stevenson

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A Day Away

I watch the dip in the swarthy, brush-covered hills
where the light remains the brightest,
pooling in a silhouette bowl
from which the heavens drink:
a red gloaming, like a pyre
on which to rest my roseate dreams.
I see no trace of blue in that candy colored sky,
except in the clouds that used to contrast it.
I sit on the cold cement near my house,
find north and south with my arms outstretched
and angle the right to three o’clock
toward the old beach town where you’ve lived all your life,
amongst the salty breezes.
I can almost hear you laughing there,
smiling like a child, and warm amongst friends and family
while the candy swirls slowly lour and the streetlight
over your car begins to cast its light,
and night yawns gently from my heaven to yours.
You can still see the sun on your side of the hills
though it’s fading fast
and even beneath streetlights,
you must know it.
So I’ll share this memory with you
of another day
coming to a close.

 

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