My favorite view has always been the White Cherry blossoms,
in the last hours of a late Summer's afternoon.
The elasticizing heat, the deep color draining from the sky.
Still feel you scooting closer,
I relish the early mornings, rolling out of bed; 7:30 AM.
Blurry-eyed, raindrops pelting
against your head, bobbing just above the sill.
Grey clouds blotting out your smile, clinging to the glass.
It's always been you.
Remember, when? We were wrapped up in the outlawed playlists, crooning through the soundwaves. Craving the old rules saved for a casual Friday.
Now, you turn to me through tremoring waves, and fragmented technicolor.
Your eyelashes lift, asking what's next?
I shake my head, as your lazy smirk dims,
revealing a ghostly outline.
I don't want to know what it's like, not racing to you every morning; perfecting old habits.
And without a last chance to weave my fingers through yours,
we sleepwalk through a glass darkly.
Jennifer Ledbury is a writer living in California.