The sunrise is unviewable from this position.
The sunset, too.
Too much crowding of buildings and trees
to witness Sol complete his daily routine.
I don’t often spy Luna either,
with her choosing to cross the sky
after all the blinds have been closed.
This whole dance between star-crossed lovers
hidden from my view,
partially by my choice
and partially by my circumstance.
I don’t know why I choose to still write of them
when I can’t see them.
Maybe it’s because I know they’re still there.
Maybe it’s because I want them to be.