The Fading Night


In the fading night
of nearly dawn
when the light starts to kiss the clouds
and, embarrassed, the sky blushes red and gold
and the songbirds lend their voices
there you are

In the snap of the flag
that you hung with care
in the glow of the night lights
and the smell of the woodsmoke
still heavy
from last night’s chiminea burn
you are there

In the silence
as the dog snores
in the cacophony
of laughter and upraised voices
In the fear of the darkness
and the joy of the dawn
there you are

And in every second
I treasure you

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