That was all.
Our backs against the wall,
the night around us.
Behind us were the careless,
in front the carefree.
And that was it.
The words would sit-
careless words sprinted, and the carefree stomped.
But ours sat, quiet, soft, small-
the thoughts more present than the sounds.
Each other, the night-
Our moon was as bright as morning.
And the morning, careless, carefree, moving- bounded,
unable to remain as the night had.