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.
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