Afterglow
Conversations, laughter and the mellow quiet in between
Stitch the stressed patches of me
Like rain falling on cracked mud; softening its edges.
Sometimes my people will be out of reach
Our distance felt through screens and scribbles,
Ghosts of past memories haunt brightly.
It helps then to gently remember
Despite the fading afterglow – 'they will be back'
Even the sun returns the next day.