the Chill

Something has changed, you know. It's not in the cool wind that blows from the sea, it's not in the way the leaves have turned that deep dark green, the last shade before their inevitable death. It's that the nights are dark now. The sky is black, and the street lights mere spots of light to guide your way. Suddenly, across the street, I see lives on display in lit apartments, like cinema screens appearing all crisp and clear in their dark theaters.

I think of you again now. I hadn't, for a while, there were distractions and summer grass, there was a busy schedule and not much time left over for meandering day dreams. (no, that's not true. I did not think of you because I do not let myself. Some paths are better left untreaded.) But here you are, back on these streets, back in my air, the gnawing sense in my gut that will not be coaxed to rest, it is you. I bide my time.

And hope your dreams are sweet.