Half Right

Lying down, knees bent, we stared at the shadows on the ceiling and walls.  The candles went out, one by one, but we stayed still for hours, watching.  Each flicker and lick made new shapes, and I couldn't keep my eyes off them.  It was warm, and the late night air eased itself through the window screen, filling the room with the smell of leaves and the change of seasons.  I didn't want to move.  So I didn't.

I thought about life and love and possibilities, and hope filled me up, right to my fingertips, my toes, the ends of my hair.  He wrote and wrote, scribbling down every thought, idea, and word that jumped through his head.  After every poem, he'd show me, and I'd wonder how this person ever entered my life.

Hours and hours.  Night turned to morning and I stayed still.