When all we had to show from
several sunlit days
was skin burned red from heat
we learned to avoid the light,
learned that freedom breathes
in darkness, where shadows cloak
secrets and we become blinded
by anything beyond this warmth
of togetherness. Light limps
toward us in the demands of dawn
so we hide beneath the shade
of trees, and in the rustling of branches
during storm the wind sends her message,
barely a sigh in the rumbling thunder
but something about white flags
and the closing of curtains.
But I won't surrender, for in nightfall
I've discovered that I don't need
candles or stars
when I have the glow of your eyes.