She concentrates on her fingertips,
tugging at the hem of her skirt.
There will be no goodbyes tonight
with the suggestions of summer crickets in their ears.
"Wait" flees from her mouth
without making a sound.
The Ghostly doves of dusk
persuade his hands down her back.
Grass rumbles through their skin,
drowning the sound of racing breath.
The light from his eyes is blinding,
so she fixes hers to the moonless sky.
While they discover that the heat taints everything
with an undeserved innocence.
All thoughts become hollowed,
by the pulsing of nocturnal life.
Now she starts to wonder where the springtime went.
He's covered by the weight of her silence.
But an owl, summoning darkness, almost makes them forget
It was never suppose to be like this.
