Goodbye, little rocket
Goodbye, little rocket.
I lost track of your body long ago.
You have flown out of my sight and into the unknown.
You leave me staring at your contrails, orange like a scar in the dark blue sunset sky. Your ethereal memory points back to Earth, towards what's nearer than the distant horizon.
Streams of cars: white lights flowing one way, red lights flowing the other.
You point towards the rustling of the leaves and tell me that they, too, will leave soon.
I sit at my windowsill.
I feel a longing for everything that's real and present, and I feel a love that transcends all geographical bounds like constellations.
In the air, I catch a final whiff of summer and my skin readies for a sweet winter that will be here when the earth and oceans see fit.
The sun sets and your memory fades while the headlights and streetlights remain.
I promise to live my life diligently, dear rocket.
I place my lips against the cool night air.
I blow you a kiss.
Goodbye.