No Title*

Lightroom to my eyes

I never see a thousand miles

For a thousand times

I never see the morning

Your glass of water

Your sunrise

Like the way you gleam and gloat

Through the dark of the night

Take your candle

Blow it out

It's yours, it's free

At least that's what I've been told

I never see your sorrow

I never expect the thyme

Your curling and your curls

Near the morning they were gone

Softly like the morning light

Moondust and moonshine

Let the ocean take away

Your valence and your nightshade

*Supposedly by Aran Meredith

March 2024