Curled Up Endings

I sat up waiting
for the night to change
with just a blanket of stars
and an imagination.

Some nights are darkness
that never ends

until morning
sprinkles shards of light
through accidental cracks
and warms ivory skin;

a stranger to Spring

like daffodils too close
to the sun, wilted,
on willow days
when the furthest thing
from my mind

was love,

but still,
I dreamt it, lived it in pages,
brown around the edges,
torn, curled up endings
too good to be true.

Moons were always too far away;
too blue to touch
serenading all those stars.
but, he;

he struck a chord
on a backwards day
and the fourth finger answered
what lips couldn’t
in June

when everything was golden

like those daffodils
way back when.


day 21 NaPoMo (a poem a day in April)


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