Slowing in the muzzle's spin

There was not far to go in the run up to the fall. We sat and whispered to each other about the previous times that we had been there. Had it changed in years that had since passed? I stared off into the dying sun, watching the sky shift in hue and grace as the night cooled and due began to collect upon our eye lashes.

"Tell me about your father" she said.

"I can not."

Moving from where we began we found ourselves asleep in arms that belonged to the other. Crying myself to sleep, I await for the sun to rise once again.