the dust dances too

stay with me.

every night

around this time,

i watch the sun fall

into the open arms

of an oak tree,

and i hear it

whisper:

stay with me,

stay with me

for longer than a minute,

stay with me

and i’ll hold you

through the night,

but the oak is too weak

and the sun

slips away,

silently

dripping

through its fingers

into the darkness.

(Source: thedustdancestoo)

Posted 3 months ago with 206 notes
Tags: poetry  spilled ink  words  
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