Watercolor homes run
As the day's pastels become undone
The sun smolders behind the hills
But cold air chills the breath on my tongue
On my back porch seat
Privacy is bittersweet
As I treat myself to a soft serve sunset
Wipe my eyes and ease my nerves
As watercolor skies blur
Steady breathing, with numbest bliss
It's odd to not miss her, but I'm not concerned
On my back porch seat
Privacy is bittersweet
As I treat myself to a soft serve sunset
The sun recedes without a yell
Muted colors swirl and melt
Stars crystallize, half frozen
And eclipse the dull implosions of our dreams in their shells
The pictures we painted of what we were
Are better than all we could be
On my back porch seat
Privacy is bittersweet
As I treat myself to a soft serve sunset
To a soft serve sunset
To a soft serve sunset
To a soft serve sunset