The child moves,
blindfolded,
stumbling through the trembling air,
Hands grazing the rough bark of trees, the cool breath of stone.
Laughter rises, thin as thread, spinning through the dark—
A thread they cannot follow,
only pull,
only pull,
Until the world dissolves,
and home is only a memory of warmth.

Is there ever
A day without thinking of you?
The sun gaps of light
Aren’t even bright anymore
I used to
stare at them and
visualize your
beautiful, beautiful face