The Shimmerer

Monday, January 28, 2019

I feel the way light must feel
When it’s released from prism.

You only do two days, no how:
Day you go in and the day you

Come out. Here I am, though,
Near the Forsyth Park fountain

Counting each ray of sunlight
As something I mist. Misty

Memories hop like my head
Through similes literally all-all,

And I reflect upon you, Breath,
Wisp I didn’t hold: I just saw

A pic of you on the net, and tho’
You are now heavier set, still

You are a light. A sprite. A wight
Flickering through our time

Together, which was brief —
In which a point can be eternal.

Do you know what I mean about
“Time”? Like, it just keeps going.

• • •

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