sunset

freezing hands as we walk home.
purple pink orange dance
lightly through shivering air,
the view only slightly marred
by ten floors rising above.

an idea strikes "want a better view"
a cloud escapes my mouth "yes"
but you are already bolting for the doors.
"come on, quick" we race up the stairs,
knees shaking from the hammering of our feet.
around flight three i start to laugh,
golden strikes through rhythmic gasps.
blood rushes up my ears;
my lungs have never been so warm.

one crystalline, fleeting moment.
we burst onto the top floor.
the view is nothing—the sun
has already fled past the horizon.
only a slight dash of roses
brushes against the treetops.
it doesn’t matter. we are already full.