Blue Memories

A wish for the return of her.

/His face is pressed on the window
pane watching the sunset/

"To me she was the sun" he
drawls, the long lines running
his face yawn. His time
fades, unknowingly
happening upon sapphire
fountains of old myth.
Mayhaps he takes a sip.

/Time smiles for but a moment./

His a return to ours while
old bones whisper soliloquoy.
Dogged scowl at his reflection
in the glass: a formality. She
is long gone, if she was
At all. Now but Midnight
dust in tired Sahara.

/The sun passes under the
horizon, the pane fades to black/