I close my eyes,
and the night becomes for me
a dark room;
the wind howls, persistent,
and in its whistle I discern your voice;
as it meets my lips,
gently,
I taste your own;
but the sun must rise
and the wind must cease
and I must remember
you were never that persistent,
nor that gentle.
As I leave,
I thank you for that moment,
a front-row seat to the deception,
for long ago
you promised me it would last forever,
and for me it has,
it does
BrevityQuest11 (138 words)