Contre la Nuit

Mon ami:

A month ago, we sat on a porch on a swing

Neither of which belonged to us

The paint on its surface was sun-faded and green

And as the sun set, tea in our hands, we discussed

The future, the past, the in-betweens

Nows and then thens and then furthers

Newly eighteen and nearly nineteen

The night didn’t still; neither did our murmurs

Our spot of suburbia in an urban sprawl

We sat on separate sides of the seat

Subdued yet ineffable happiness scrawled

At our knack to pick up without missing a beat

In the backs of our minds, a missing cat traipsed through

Once again, not ours, but good to pass the time

Shallowly separating thoughts more seriously construed

As a gentle wind nudged twinkling chimes

You and me and the current passersby,

Me and the cat and you and chimes.

Midnight struck: the teas were cold

The breeze had finished its stroll

It’s unfair that good things should come to an end,

But with friends, ends just transpose.

Sincerely, contre la nuit,

Me