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Of Light & Warmth
I saw your little basket of light
as I was walking out of my house,
the heat fresh and potent,
during the small sliver of time where
the sky is neither awake or asleep;
a deep, periwinkle expanse with
a smoky pink shadow.
At first, I thought you were a trick
by the light. Perhaps an image
conjured by my own, fickle eyes.
I blinked, and you
disappeared, as quickly as
a flower let goes of its petals,
as quickly as how
spring melts into summer.
But then you came into existence again
like a match being struck against
phosphorus.
Flying,
floating,
flickering into and out of,
until a breeze silenced
your quiet fire.
I saw you
again and again.
Near the old oak tree,
by the dozing car,
barely escaping out of the
giggling child’s small,
pudgy fingers.
I was once a child & now
I am no longer.
But you still hold all the memories
of my summer childhood.
Maybe I can still catch you &
hold you in the smooth
creases of my palms.
I’d wonder how you manage to carry
all the warmth in your tiny,
three-part body,
how you rekindle the curiosity in me
that time had long burned out.
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Tiny creatures of the night.