Late Afternoon

A couple sit hand in hand On the porch swing. Passions of morning And heat of noon have faded. He strokes her white hair With misshapen fingers. Wisps of white air-brush Across cerulean canvas of sky. Her face crinkles as she leans Back, smiles up to him. Air floats light and still as sleep; Silent swallows glide by. There is no need for words They know Browning by heart. Shadows merge, light grows dim, Colors fade, birds settle. They stand, she takes his arm And they shuffle indoors. Day turns to twilight.