The Sun Rising Over The Mountains- Jeannette Beebout

Jeannette Beebout
May 1, 2013
WR 241/ Biespiel
In class poem #2

The sun rising
over the mountains
meant I had to get
up. Up from the rocks
piercing my backbone
up from beneath the dew
soaked tent and out of the
puffy but always too
small sleeping bag.
The sun rising
over the mountains
meant that romance
around the fire
that took place between
him and I was
over, and was just
a memory. It appeared to be
perfection, and I
like to close my eyes and replay
his lips pressing up against
mine, although my nose was
as cold as a steel barrel.
We hadn’t been
this close in months,
but when it happens
the wait is worth it.
I don’t want it to end.
I am his and he is mine.
yet, we are distant
strangers passing eachother
in the hallway, maybe
a nudge or brush
of the shoulder, but
not in playfulness, but pure
accident and lack of
consideration.