Contentment bent in every direction
I inspect the color of this light.
It's arc is short and rather contrite
But trying to stay true to its colors.
I look to my brother...
With a tiny face that holds so much light
I hope earns a burnless flight,
And my blood, keeps churning through the night.
In this repeat of festive lights,
We have to learn how to turn out alright.
No comments:
Post a Comment