The sun despairs of his heavenly perch, and descends,

Burning the last bridge between heaven and earth,

The far-off fields of corn, now smouldering in glowing embers,

And here we sit, swinging in the chill evening air.



We lick our ice creams, goody goody gum drops,

Minty, chewy, sticky sweet. Something to concentrate on,

Other than each other - no, the sun is in my face, that's why

It feels like acid is scorching my eyes, not tears.



Tomorrow we say goodbye. Now we hope

To call, to write, to not forget, but we will

Sooner or later. What I really ask for is for you

To please, sometimes, think of me.



But now we swing, higher and higher, our toes soaring

Up into the air, heads flung back and hair tossed in the wind.

Acting like the children we should be, but aren't, too much

Youthful naiveté gone up in flames with premature farewells.



Our pendulum motion lulls our voices into silence

And the wind speaks instead, rustling through the leaves

And whistling through the building and caressing the grass

In gentle waves, a lullaby, and I could stay here forever.



There are no words for this moment, brief and infinite,

Quite and deafeningly loud. The fields stretch out coldly

In every direction and the sky soars high above us, red,

So permanent, our fleeting emotions disregarded.



I dip my head, licking my ice cream, and glance

At you, your hair a flaming halo in the sunset,

Face of an angel, brilliant and terrible, and I know

That this moment, so brief, is worth the world.



Why is the horizon so bright, orange and pink smeared across the sky,

As our eyes search the darkening night, for a way to say our final goodbye?