Bright light, not just an element of sight|
It also has the images from past—
Reflection…tends to stay and reunite
With old caressing arms (abound to last.)
As for my labor to forget such thing,
Can’t speak to ask for some forgiveness now;
O Najma -- dune amidst the storm please bring—
Me in the tail ends of her final bow.
Cloud stretched as blanket veiled my agonies,
Felt on its trapdoor ground the weakest form—
Of shadow that once gave those remedies
Was just a mortal dust of life’s own worm?
Learn how to live with cobwebs in return—
Is yesterday’s bright light, I must adorn.
(c) 2019 Veronica Gray
© 2019 amberdusk
(All rights reserved)