{poetry}

Day

Eveningtime and washing tide and all talk of goodbyes
Are gone before the morning on the bending line of sky
This long flat Night surrounding yet the roundness of your eyes
Leaves nothing in its perfect Day to be remembered by
Perhaps it is the fate of all bright things to be forgotten
As circles fall before horizons to our angled gaze
The spirit stays in paper trees and not in clouds of cotton
Yet all is curved as you are curved with neverending Days
You fill my world with light, but my eyes are never full
Somehow the sun in all its whiteness makes for darker black
And all your heavy brightness is what pushes Night to pull
Or maybe it descends because it knows it can't shine back
It's just your perfect curve of Day that makes my hard line dire
But with eyes rounded to the sky, I'll try to start a fire

9/11/2015