My Solace

Light moves through the trees As if it were recording The smallest gesture of your one open eye. We could be talking About how the carnations grew wild this year, How the yellow one wasn't a mistake at all in a field of mostly pink. We could be talking about The riverboats and canoes Softly rubbing And how you said They sound like footsteps In the jungle. Yes, we could be talking. But we both know That your hand in mine, Will make these talks worthwhile tomorrow. For tonight, We learn that the universe Is simply too big To be our home.