there was going to be a storm
and the air was still
we held our breath watching
the setting sun blaze through the clouds
curtain call
down the empty road
with old streetlights
mobbed by moths
white as the moonflowers
slowly stretching open as if
peeled by curious fingers
i stop to smell one
curtain call
but we don't have music
so i'll sing our reprise
duet with me, darling
peach scented words
as i idly play with your hair
and you with my choker necklace