The last rays of the sun are touching the third floor of the buildings.
Same color as the clouds.
For as long as I look at it, it will stay there,
perfect and frozen and beautiful.
The moment I look away it will be gone.
If only I could hold this last light in my hands,
like a cup to keep me warm,
like a bowl that brims over.
Peek through the blinds again tomorrow, love.
I'll still be here.
Mar 18, 2019
Mar 18, 2019 at 6:44 PM UTC
The last rays of the sun are touching the third floor of the buildings.
Same color as the clouds.
For as long as I look at it, it will stay there,
perfect and frozen and beautiful.
The moment I look away it will be gone.
If only I could hold this last light in my hands,
like a cup to keep me warm,
like a bowl that brims over.
Peek through the blinds again tomorrow, love.
I'll still be here.
