I wake up to evening light which stains
everything a soft pink – day’s end
no friends to carve shapes out of clouds with.

I haven’t yet put on my glasses
and the panorama is Impressionistic –
an artistic mess of blurred shapes, soft colors.
Traffic hums instead of hollers – I don’t miss home.

There will be a thousand more sunsets
but every sunset only comes once.
My lungs are filled with dusk – breathe slowly.

Clouds form lips to kiss me goodbye.
I’ve got fishbowls of phrases -
literary mazes – waiting to gently capture the light.

From the corner of my eye, I watch her.
She’s too busy watching her scales change color.
I get close enough – and suddenly –
round she turns – I try to overpower – it’s rough.

My blood shimmers as it drops – her curse.
I’ve got her in a net made of God’s fingers
Clouds linger, disapproving. We’re both gasping for breath.

I hold the net open over the fishbowl
She falls headfirst into the water.
No other catch of mine has taken so well to the words.
Her scales shimmer, with my phrases blur – triumph.

There will be a thousand more sunsets
but every sunset only comes once.
As humans we covet, as artists we bleed.
I’ve managed to immortalize one for now -
at least till Eternity.