The skyline
is gold light,
rose frays,
and blaze.
You snap photographs
of the dramatic shade
cast by
headstones and
powder blue
wings.
The two of us
strolling, over
hillside crypts
passing bells
singing
for
more time-
more life.
You pause,
focusing
your camera lens,
crowded by stone
and earth
freshly
upturned.
I hope
your shadow
always stretches
dramatic
at sunset
and that
I never hear
the bells
without you-
whole and
present.
pm poetry 