Bring me the sunset in a cup
Fill it just to the brim
Blow a mild breeze from soft lips
To stir the close of day within.
Hold it to me
Don’t let me take it yet
Hold it just far enough to ache my melancholy
And close enough my swelling peace to set.
Let my fingers circle the cup’s zero
As sunset seeps through my stance
And shifts, grows and ignores the confines
Of my presumptuous arrogance.
To think I actually thought me capable
Of stuffing sunset in a space
Of corralling, of confining, of controlling
The uncontrollable in my lame embrace.
But one can dream, can she not?
And, if dreaming, why not dream grand?
Create, carve, mold and colour a world
That gifts sunsets in one’s hands.
© March 2017