Sing to me a song of twilight.
Sing to me of dates in the dark,
of dinner and dancing,
and stolen kisses.
Sing to me of late-night conversations,
of empty bottles of wine
and glasses so often filled
that they themselves feel tipsy.
Sing to me of sex
of the raw, primal soundtrack
that thunders through our blood
like a sweltering summer storm.
Sing to me of greeting the sunrise
with someone held in your arms,
softly like you’re still dreaming,
fiercely like you never want to wake up
Sing to me of the dusk,
of the vanishing of the light.
Sing to me of the dawn,
and the birth of a new day.