Sit With Me Here

Sit with me here for one last poem, our eyes connected deep, as the bay. Don't walk away. Sit with me and listen though I've nothing new to say. The crazy bird that sang it's countless tunes outside our bedroom window at dawn has likely found new sky another place to hide new arbors to call home. And yet the moon will rise to linger over your shoulder, to reveal the auburn hue of the mis-placed hairs framing your face. Even through my doubts you have remained, a constant either at my side or in my heart.