She craved that golden glow,
to scoop it from the horizon on her spoon,
like the runny yellow yoke of a soft boiled egg.
She craved the sky as one craves
the bitter sweet bite of chocolate,
lingering at the back of the tongue,
or the promise of coffee
in the slow hours of the morning.
She craved those beach sunsets,
heart aching for them on winter nights
when the sky hung off her shoulders like a weighted blanket
and honey sunshine seemed a distant memory,
captured only in creased photographs
and the recesses of her mind.
She craved the cottage,
and its gallery-worthy sunsets