A Pocketful of Afternoon Light

The city had been grey for weeks, a slow static hum behind my ribs. Then you walked into the field of green and I felt the sun click on like a lamp.
I raised two fingers to the air, not a sign but a small flag of peace against all my tired days. You looked at me and smiled, and that smile was a key turning in a lock I had forgotten existed—warmth flooding the cold rooms of my chest, one by one, gently.
Your voice came low, like a melody hummed under rain, and it stitched the fraying edges of my mood. I wanted to stay in that golden hour forever, where the light is honeyed and time forgets how to run. In your eyes I saw not just a face but a whole soft season arriving, breathing, healing.
So I kept smiling, let the breeze lift my short hair, and let you pour your quiet warmth into me. It was not grand, it was not loud; it was the delicate music of two lonely hearts finding rhythm in the same afternoon sun.

Editor: Lyric