Silence Our Only Words, Breaths Our Only Goodbye’s

An evening is due, and so is a word
among the flurry of the white moths wings.
The wind languid, the returning bird,
and the song of the sunset it sings.
Me and you, and the night insidious
painting our love on the fading light,
drooping shadows and thoughts assiduous,
of the vanishing sun and the fleeting sight.
Come hither love, and partake embrace
not a soul that can make an anxious cry,
a fire less night, its cold we must face
and the words I hear companion to a sigh.
“We lived for love, and time our foe,
our abode the home of the fireflies,
we saw the sun and then the dark,
and our breaths our only goodbye’s.”

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