I didn’t want to.

Eyes wide open toward the sun.

The gold had thinned out

toward the deep blue of forever.

Where was the end of it?

Sculpted clouds insisted I look away,

their majesty butting in with finite beauty.

Grey smudges in and around fine lines.

I was driving toward the end of day

but I didn’t want to.

I pulled over and waited.

The gravel road ceased its grumbling.

Trees, like sentries, stood attentive.

The End of Days walked

my way and took my hand.

His eyes, like the sun, shone a path

before us and a finger pointed up

to the blue eternity.

I saw with a squint

the joy of true friendship.

I still feel an arm around my shoulder.