We Loved
Does the sun,
which rose in our bedroom,
curtains open,
miss seeing us wake
from our slumber,
love apparent
in our every movement,
which rose in our bedroom,
curtains open,
miss seeing us wake
from our slumber,
love apparent
in our every movement,
or does it simply,
indifferently,
shine on whoever
occupies that room now,
the memory of us
no more than dust dancing
in its ray, the love apparent
apparently not enough?
indifferently,
shine on whoever
occupies that room now,
the memory of us
no more than dust dancing
in its ray, the love apparent
apparently not enough?
Author: Edward Lee
Photo Credit: Sergey Krasnikov on Unsplash
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