Riley welch is a poet from texas living in Denver. She posts three original poems a week. 

The Golden Hour

In trying to capture a moment I become redundant.
So here
picture this:
grey sky. No white sky.
All clouds, no storms.
Warm. But not sunny,
an odd contradiction I've
come to find comfortable.
Trees the greenest green.
Well, that was lazy. Trees a variety of
greens. Rich and forest-y and
light and almost yellow.
Oh, it was all so beautiful.
The air settled on my shoulders
in a relaxing comfort. I had not
felt for week.s
Orange rooftops welcomed the shade,
almost bleached by the suns persistence.
Chatter and footsteps were drowned
out by headphones on low.
To add to the mood.
Everything was so lovely.

And then the bus came.

And I Felt a Great Loss

Day 5