Watercolor homes run

As the day’s pastels become undone

The sun smolders behind the hills

But cold air chills the breath on my tongue

 

On my back porch seat

Privacy is bittersweet

As I treat myself to a soft serve sunset

 

Wipe my eyes and ease my nerves

As watercolor skies blur

Steady breathing, with numbest bliss

It’s odd to not miss her, but I’m not concerned

 

On my back porch seat

Privacy is bittersweet

As I treat myself to a soft serve sunset

 

The sun recedes without a yell

Muted colors swirl and melt

Stars crystallize, half frozen

And eclipse the dull implosions of our dreams in their shells

 

The pictures we painted of what we were

Are richer than all we could be

 

On my back porch seat

Privacy is bittersweet

As I treat myself to a soft serve sunset

To a soft serve sunset

To a soft serve sunset

To a soft serve sunset