There is a song in the day’s remaining sunlight
that fires pink on Sierra browns, reflected
delicate in the strands and traces of your hair,
the catered glow of your presence forming
an audition to the edge of Autumn

This is a Summer that presents herself now
in terms of color, in stark melody and
intemperate decisions – given the length
of time one gives in a life of wonder –
like the premonitions of my dreams

giving way to your cosmic Light –

Here in this immeasurable twilight, I
linger in the realm of your eyes
like a lost star formed in the birth
of a Chaos in tatters, as your stare bores
into me and I forget where I am

Were it not for this lucid frame of reference,
the light noted languorously in degrees
of ascent, while you and I comprise
the captions of antiquity, as our time here
is lost forever in the memories of my heart

© K. James Ribble