Stay
The evening has not yet cooled to a cobalt blue.
The rooster, too, anticipating the wrong twilight, crows at sundown instead.
The baker's oven has not yet let out the last of its fragrant sighs.
The bread is yet to rise, and the slow, spinning frenzy, yet to take hold.
The crowd has not yet dissolved into one man and a dog.
The vegetable vendors have not yet discarded their husks for the day.
Fishwives are still squabbling, horns are still protesting, feet are still scrambling and footsteps? They're still hesitating.

The breeze is still warm, aromatic, pungent even.
The trees have not yet shut their leafy eyelids, and the flowers haven't bowed their drooping heads.
An errant butterfly skims along the back of a sultry gust. A wayward bumblebee hastens to collect some more amber.

The swings are still squeaking and the benches are still creaking.
Conversations haven't grown stale yet. Adrenalin hasn't quieted yet.

The sea turns golden for a brief while, and pulls away from the shore.
Sand collects in little pockets, hoping to trap the fluid gold and trick it into staying.
I try to grab a fistful of sky even as a deep blue creeps in at the corners, encroaching my gold.
Clouds rear and dissipate into familiar shapes. I turn to you.

Stay, won't you? Awhile?