The Breath in Between

Deep reds bend the darkness,
blending the horizon's void to glow.
The sun's coming again,
pushing warm currents
to tickle my face,
like the breath in between.
There's light just below
the surface of anticipation.

Memories carry back your words,
settling my troubled mind and cradling
in the breath in between.
Your voice falls like Autumn
-- leaves and syllables paint me
beautiful before the growing day
for all the world to see.
Your lightness rises like
the breath in between.
I am awake and I can move my bones.

Noisy taxicabs and traffic lights
blare away my peace.
The clock can only crawl.
I wait for you to beat again,
like the breath in between.
Then there you are,
filling my chest again.
The world drops away,
like fading backgrounds
in a familiar movie,
and the fickle clock unravels
faster and faster.
Controlling me.

I look at the minutes and pauses,
they are like the breath in between.
You make me stand directly
in the sunlight
but I cast no shadows.
There are no shadows
that you can bring.
Shadows that hide
like the breath in between.

The day races down
a country road toward
the other horizon.
It chases the sun away
and pulls aloft the moon
behind it, a balloon on a string.
We'll rest soon,
we have to, under that shine.

But until then,
my head on a pillow happy
until you withdraw on a sigh.
I want you to stay,
but you can't.
You can only visit.
I close my eyes,
more anticipation,
and the wheel goes 'round again.

Sleep lies down comfortable
on my chest, heavy and warm,
and I dream in pieces
about tomorrow on
my breath in between.