It was the mood of early evening,
of broken moon across the glass,
it was the time of lust and yearning,
when I would close your tired eyes,
when light would flicker on your eyelids,
burning away the other end,
when you would shift and then, subsiding,
the smell of smoke would fill my hands.
And I would finger it and open
my palms to let it quietly go
to ride into the sloping autumn
and crash under the folly snow.
I left you sleeping, insecure,
blue doors were slammed into the skies,
I went through one of them, so sure,
tonight, we said enough goodbyes.