21


You look out through French windows
at all that darkness, & think
of being cradled in your father's arms
as you turn to me, but dear
we are cradled round in stillness only once
& now must hold eachother thinking
of those few bright sparks that dance out there
& of the faint light cast around
like being in a childhood again where
we must learn to see there is nothing
between us

                         & in that fading light
we are lovely & we rest, ignorant
of what will awaken us.