The death of light
welcomes warm embrace as
hands cross chests, burrowing under arms,
and glances meet
eye-to-eye through the onset of
impending dusk.  Warm breaths
humidify the air–a warm cloak,
wrapping around noses and lips,
ear-to-ear.  Bodies pull close,
assuring warmth and to not matter
the consequence of folding sheets
during the night.  Faces appear as
the light from her eyes
is picked out like a match, struck,
at the end of a tunnel.
Nudged noses flick fruition,
up-to-down, left-to-right, but
there is no sulfuric satisfaction
with winter rapping upon the window.
The evaporating enlightenment
eventually dims to ashen spires as
an evading soul rises to the heavens.

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