The Passing Of Thunder

It is summer, deep summer,
In the sticky darkness of my bed,
Listening as the thunder rolls down the hills,
That a hard truth, like the lightning sky,
Becomes illuminated.

I look at the woman lying beside me,
Asleep, unburdened, and unabashedly snoring.
I take in every curve of her body,
Every strand of dark, fragrant hair.
Lingering in the last pre-dawn hours.

Like waves break on the shore,
And flowers fall away,
Our course has been run
Love songs turn to negotiations,
Passion to dying embers,
Intimacy to stolen moments of time.

The seedy ceiling fan cycles dead air,
As my unsteady hand reaches out
For the last cool, sweaty ounces of beer.
I put the glass to my lips,
Ease my head back down,
And watch the storm roll in.

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