Bright light hurts.
He Remains, I think,
Glancing over
to prove the claim
"Unfounded fear,"
He assured me.
Never left,
But laid there,
Still.
Sleep--a solemn ritual
Of surrender steals
Moments from the day.
He does not hear,
"Bright light hurts
These eyes closed
Long from sleep."
Morning, and...
He is gone.
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
