Day falls into night, and I fall into thoughts of sleep.

The leaves drift along the river like little life rafts,

and I hang on to them gingerly for fear that

they might crumble under the weight of my mind.

Faeries illuminate the blackboard sky with drawings of light,

tracing each other’s tiny frames, glowing, cascading,

sparks showering the damp earth beneath my bare feet.

Cold and warmth combine, hands meeting, fingers touching,

palms facing upwards to catch the dying stars in their last

fleeting moments of pure and wholesome light.

I am waiting for fall to rise again –

to wrap myself around the hearth where the fire

once wavered in a hypnotic trance

and melt away.



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