The sunset was handing out crowns
and there you were
every smile a coronation.
We stand on ceremony
to make memory less awkward
but beneath the blurring vision
and graying hairs
we are ablaze,
long horizons
drinking the closest star
dry
gallons and gallons
of wish-I-mays
sparkling in our throats.
That you would read me still
is cause for celebration
and that I endlessly write
is just the sunset
doting and dutiful,
putting all of us in our place,
all of us working as one.