A gentle breeze through the open window,
Breaks the stillness of a quiet room,
Dimly lit by auburn rays.
Hands and hearts conjoined we sit,
And play our turns at patient breaths,
To space out words so calmly thought.
Without consent, the sun she sets,
To hide from us, far out of sight,
And leaves behind her memories.
To cling to what we hold so tight,
That ere we walk such troubling paths,
We hold no grief between us.
Still we rise to walk the halls,
All surveyed by crimson eyes,
To pass through doors into the light.
It is night.