until

 

in a country where
starting over is the rule

where the night waits
for no one

and we share candles
without gratitude

the deep forest
glows


in the dark
dreams speak of personal things

not secrets, but
dry reincarnations of days
where gray skies catch
thin curtains,
force them to speak
briskly

your voice repeats
prayer-like
mantras of
the spring unfurling
over the windowsill
in lush green

scattering wet
as the oak leaves
gently emerge


when I set you free
you misplaced
the path

the trees hide their shadows,
remind me
that we all pay for carelessness

and not every light leads home