It’s April, again

We talk inaudibly before dawn, when 

we’re merely an apparition for our mind’s eye
The 4-6 am picture show
stars leather couch and corduroy –
we’re soft.
between drowsy and tangible
we live in amber
as if we were only made
to make today last forever. 
we collapse into a precipitate of familiarity –
Cerulean blue, June skies –
Warm and distant
In an instant
We flutter shut