he stood on the porch as the last rays of sunlight crept beneath gentle curve of the horizon

he didn’t see any of it

his eyes were focused elsewhere, on a different vista, on another vision of beauty

when he was a boy the encroaching night was to be feared, to be reviled

with night came screams, came sour beer, stale cigarette smoke, pain was the night’s gift

now it is loneliness, he feels as if he understands the coyote with it’s lonesome howling

somewhere out there, the sun kisses her skin, shines specifically for her glorious self

and he stand there

hand on the railing, wishing he could play along her soft her skin with rough fingers as well

the memories of long nights huddled beneath his bed, waiting for the last light to turn off

wishful thoughts of her hands interlaced with his, as sleep takes them away together, in unison

instead

he stands on the porch as the last rays of sunlight creep beneath gentle curve of the horizon

thinking of her, as the past lashes his weary soul, the present loneliness wears him down