Sunset On A Kingdom

I wish we could play again.
Just like we used to,
on the rusty old swing set behind your house.
I’ll push. And you pull.

Like Mona Lisa, your smile is ambiguous.

But then, every thing about you seems like a Renaissance painting.
The soft strokes of tea-stained hair and porcelain skin.
No blemishes. No mistakes.
Just perfect.

You are perfect.

Remember when we skipped rocks across that lake we found?
No one was around,
so we danced along the shore, threw sand and dirt up into the air, and yelled at the vibrant sun,
claiming this land as our own.
And when our lungs couldn’t bear any more strain,
we collapsed and laid next to one another.

You whispered to me,

“I wish the sun would stay forever,
that way the night would never come.”

But,
God has gone with the sun, and has taken what is dear with him,
what was dear to you.

The purity of perfection is gone.

So
I’ll be the puller.
And you?
You are the pusher.