The sunset sky
with dusky violet swirls of
and blunt, orange brushstrokes of
lifted her up, up and away—
the parachuted girl
who should have come down
far earlier than she did.
Looking up from the sidewalk,
he waited while
tapping one sensibly shoed foot,
with its earth-hold-me-down
and pushing his black wire glasses
up, up the bridge of his nose.
Hours passed between them
and a whole lot of days too
but he was there to catch her fall,
gathering her down into his arms
as men in love are liable to do.