It already smells like night.
The sky is draped with violet and
the hush is sacred, here outside
your place, your haunting ground.
Everyone is long departed.
This twilit interlude is flawed
and desolate, now, in itself.
It's missing half its magic.
The stars may not yet all be out,
but who could count them alone?
I stop for a moment and stand,
leaning on the railing here.
The light will soon be not so perfect
and, with it, the moment gone.
Better to feel the specter of what is missing
like the chill of evening's onset,
achingly sweet, down to my bones,
than to lose it all to the night.
You have been here, today.
You never thought of me, did you?
Now other people's memories remain here, like ghosts,
and some of them are yours.
I can't quite touch them.
If, where you are, you loved
this perfect evening, under this same sky,
that is as close as I can get tonight.
...I must go home.
I take a dusky, star-scented breath
and walk away slowly.
The light is already fading.
Soon it will be night.
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