Ever Later

The clocks moved forward, stealing an hour, and casting night time shadows
ever later.
Through the window, next to last year’s dead weeds, lies the wishes of an old and odd soul.
Of stopping to pick wildflowers on her walk home from the library, in a sleepy New England town, nestled on a window seat surrounded by hand-woven quilts and fluffy pillows, sipping lavender lemonade, with a book in her hands, wearing the lightest and thinnest attire.
There is nothing of significant note in her ambitions. Just small indulgences, and breaths of fresh air.
Gazing out the window, until warmer days arrive, she imagines the picturesque place with the window seat, blooms in a vase, and multiple books lining multiple bookshelves.
His voice echoing down the hall, beckoning her for more—
small indulgences
gasps of fresh air
and their shadows moving on the wall
ever later.

This entry was posted in Love, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

7 Responses to Ever Later

  1. utahan15 says:

    you are love
    subtle white as a dove
    coo look at you
    my dear one

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Brad Osborne says:

    Sultry and sweet! Loved the perspective. Created some great images and a touch of intrigue. Well written, my friend!

    Liked by 1 person

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