Evenings End

Tresses bounce across her shoulders.
Heat radiates from her skin.

Goals and dreams filed in folders.
All actions planned, including sin.

Laughter fills the empty streets;
like bubbly bottles of champagne.

Quotes of Elliot, Emerson and Keats
when lightening strikes and signals rain.

She bites her lower lip and scans his face
contemplating with not so subtle eyes.

For down the hill there is a place
to sort out truth from lies.

For the entire day's been a dream
from which she loathes to wake.

A trusting heart, she does deem
and hopes to not forsake.