the cries of summer sleep

this time,
she put the keys back on the
nightstand,
enjoying the click of each key
embracing
the wood, clanking ever so slightly
in odd time signatures
as to sound out like the slaps of raindrops
upon asphalt
in Fall as the wind ceases and the clouds
carry steady against the sky,
so dark and milky,
soft as cotton soaked in silk.

and her mouth was dry.

the bed to her side,
so tightly made and soft with down.
the pillows fluffed and in place,
smelling of him,
smelling of her-
and a splash of vanilla that clung to the air
hours after it should have glanced away
like a ghost upon remembering it was lost
to the world as dry leaves that ignite
to the flash of lighting that caught them ablaze
in the dry, crisp air of an August Summer
in the desert oven heat.

the slippers he wore so often
and more than she would have ever thought
when she bought them as a last minute
gift
last Christmas eve while
she thought of his parents coming in
on a plane from Phoenix later that night,
arriving red eye
to spend Christmas morning with she and their son
she loved.

but that sneer when he said
he loved another, just minutes ago.
that sneer when he said her name.
that sneer
as the tear draped sorrow over her
eyes
and she struggled to the bedroom
to take the keys
that she just placed this time,
back on the
nightstand,
enjoying the click of each key
embracing
the wood, clanking ever so slightly
as she cries herself to sleep.