the end of a day

the day can be exhausting.

i sit

on the edge of the  bed

and untie my

shoes, letting them fall 

to the floor.

the clothes come off.

i'm stiff and tired

from the work day,

my hands filled with the debris

of labor.

there is dust in my eyes.

i lean back onto the pillow

and think of dinner.

i think of lovers past.

i think of younger days

when i wanted 

everything in life, each

day, each night to last.

but there is still sweetness

in it all.

i've never lost that.