An Hour
by Travis Blair

It was only an hour
early on an October morning
but this one hour
was naked and warm.
It was an hour when soft light
bathed the island
and you captured the sun
rising above the Gulf.
It was a carefree hour
when we went back to bed
not yet ready to face the day.
It was the last hour
before the reality sank in
that when you flew away
a light would go out
and never shine again.

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