Last night you ran,
chasing the sunset with
your camera lens,
but it hid behind houses,
teasing you with glimpses
of color in the dull evening sky.
You followed it west,
wishing the suburban skyline
would just disappear so you
could capture every shade.
As the seconds slipped away,
yellow faded into red,
which sunk back into
a primordial cloud.
Defeated, you drove us back east,
knowing the sun would rise and set
again, but it would never seem quite
as beautiful as the one
you failed to photograph.
I never knew how fast
the sun moved
until I saw you try to catch it.
