He said he didn’t like sunsets,
His eyes gazing over the road softly
Slowly switching glances at me
His tone changed smooth,
Like he was telling an ancient old story.
“They’re sad,” he said. “They make me depressed.”
I turned to look,
His eyes focusing hard on the road
Hand intertwined with mine, his grasp a somehow familiar feeling
“Sunsets mean the day is ending. They bum me out.”
He turns on his blinker, the light turns red.
“But sunrises,” he says looking at me,
“Those are so cool. Beautiful.”
His eyes bright, filled with excitement again and
I can’t help but wish I was as optimistic as he.
So now I think about that
Every time the sun sets
How he can’t see the same beauty as I
But we both appreciate the changing of earth
It makes me wonder how he sees beauty,
How he sees me
I wonder what he thinks of sunsets
I wonder if he thinks of me.
I wonder if when the colors of the sky fall from blue to
Grey and red or orange and pink
If he thinks of the spark in my eye
The hope in my voice
If he remembers me dragging him outside on the porch
To see the cotton candy sky-
I wonder if he’ll remember that.
I’ll always remember his words
How my perception changed
And how sunrises always make me a little more happy than they used to.