Glimpses of Sun

# Glimpses of Sun

A current stirs beneath the wind,
a murmur in the sky.

Waves carry laughter—
honey, sugar, rain—
and for a moment
something milk-sweet fills the air.

The world appears
untouched by shame.

Light struggles through the pane,
finding brightness
even in the stain.

The cool air warms against my skin,
and I think:

*life could be like this.*

Only a glimmer—
a careless streak of gold
passing through
a quietly turbulent mind,
touching an older wound.

A stinging pause.
An opening
no gauze could bind,
no silence soothe.

I hold the moment carefully,
like a self-conscious thief
afraid even hope
might make a sound.

Then questions.

The light begins to fade,
lingering at the edge
of another haze.

Golden and amber
show themselves cautiously
through the daze.

The hours lengthen.
The currents slow.

One heart catches
where two had only drifted.

The moment belongs
to each of us differently.

In only one of us
does it take root.

Night grows long.
Time and part grow small.

Somewhere,
a song almost begins,
but only one note remains,
holding itself
against the silence.

Seconds pass.
The sky has gone dim.

Stray syllables escape
while twilight burns
for only one.

Time moves on.
Silence keeps its sting.

The song never arrives.

One last thought.
One soliloquy for two.
A hope still trembling
along the strings.

Night draws close,
my only quiet suitor.

A closing glimmer.

Then darkness settles
without ceremony.

Parting words,
half-given.

A tenderness I will not chase.
A loss I can forgive.

And one last call
into the dark:

*Hey, sun—
thanks for the rays.*