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.