˜This dream is tailor made," you whisper
beneath a brooding sky: weathered
cornstalks set in contrast to the darker firmament.
˜Only for a moment," she tells you:
trailing fingers tracing the outline of her jaw.
Fumbling lips build arches past
the vestiges of cloud; where outreached
hands may reach and tap the fading sunset dry.
The flash extinguished with the sky
like ephemeral gasps emitted from
this dying moment.
