In the sunset on a hill I see the silhouette.
Not of a single shape, but of two.
Acting as one in the golden light,
that bled in tight slivers between their love.
They let the world stand behind them,
and of this I did not mind them.
After all it was me,
that was atop the hill.
As far as I could see the other figure,
I had to hesitate, the face being so far off,
the contour being all I could translate.
Without a second guess or thought in my chest,
I knew just who it was that settled on that hill,
as if it were fate, or something to which it may relate.