i love walking home to a moment, but not to watch them take shifts
i came home to an afternoon that falls gently on my room
the warm air march over between shadows and tilted beams
with faintly flickering dust like microfairies flying by my windows
i never found such beauties whenever i was there all day watching the day leaving me by.
Maybe because whenever i watch their departing rears,
what's most beautiful are the quiet sounds of my heart breaking over it