Waning

Stars are out A few too many for a one track mind To count The scenery is like a matte painting Where the artist Simply forgot to finish This December moon Hangs a bit lower in the sky Than I remember Your hands feel icy But if I turned my head Your gaze would be colder still My desires are self-evident While yours flutter And flitter in the winter breeze There are no shooting stars left They've all been shot down Leaving dust to fall around us Our lips used to crash Along this horizon line Saturated by a fountain of youth But this phase has ended We are waning like the moon Waiting to be made new again

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Written by

chris-thomasrf

45 / M

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