After dark on Lookout Mountain,
Denver beats- –
Buffalo Bill in slumber nearby,
I know it’s cold- –
you’re not thinking of me.
City lights far below
a million candles glow- –
melding into starlit horizons,
snaking highways- -infinite gleaming.

Crescent moon shines
across water’s icy tomb,
crisp silence- –
life’s punctuation up here,
at once broken
by a distant coyote’s yipping- –
I absorb the night in waves,
energized solitude- -alive
almost breathing.

You fit me inside- –
                                  and out,
tight- -button fly jeans tight.
This warm goosedown
I tuck into- -you,
breathing a phantom whisper
in your ear- –

Copyright 2011, by Suzie Ashby.