That Old Devil Moon

You liked sunrises
I liked sunsets,
and you would tease me
that this meant 
that you were a glass half full
awaiting completion 
and I was a half empty vessel 
waiting only for
night’s forgetfulness to descend,
but you would indulge me
and as the day was ending
we would drive out of the city
away from the lights 
to watch the preening peacock sun
bid us goodbye.
On country roads
enveloped by fields of tall corn
we became children of the earth,
my tiny Volkswagen, lights on now,
joining hundreds of fireflies glowing
and floating on the wind
in an eternal search for love.
Lost in beauty
we hardly noticed
that old devil moon on the rise,
it’s light white and cold,
biding it’s time
to seize the sky and our moment,
ensuring our parting
so that we might
share more sunsets
but know we would never
together greet the dawn.