the slightest hammock swing
is enough to let me touch
the shaded velvet of the night sky encroaching so softly
upon the world
and my being.
the earth tucks in for slumber
deep and tranquil
the way I yearn for my heart to also
be at rest.
how beautiful contentment looks
from this sleepy in-between place
full of promise and possibility.
wistful fingers reach for it
just beyond her grasp.
“If only,” she whispers.
and the first star whispers back.
–Charla M. DelaCuadra