This is my third poem of week three of the online retreat. I went off-prompt for this one.
There’s a cuticle moon tonight
Its amber tinge may or may not
be the gauze of my curtains
That the waxing gibbous has diminished
is not a surprise
Most of us don’t go that far back
but we do remember how bright it was
and, sometimes, the wishes we made
Words can’t do the feeling justice
or bring back the light
The feeling itself may fade
until what remains is only what we remember
So we place stones on cloudy days
to mark our visits
and remember for as long as we can
(21 October 2020)
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