Indian Summer

The sun had sunk
somewhere below the horizon,
and a sweet breeze ran its fingers through our hair.
Darkness held us close,
the only light
that of a city far below.
Your head lay nestled in my lap
and my hands roamed your chest,
and I was
utterly content.

But the companionable silence
left me free to contemplate the days to come.

"This is the only part of summer I'm going to miss. The nights."
I smiled down at you,
alive with the light that danced,
inexplicably,
through your bedroom eyes.
Of all the things you could have said,
the words that left your lips
were of a most unexpected nature.
You smiled in that wicked way
and said with a voice as sweet as honeyed treats,

"Won't you miss me too?"