Green Window
So we drove on toward death through the cooling twilight.
Daisy, Daisy and your
Misty green light—
Fog drifting with
The current of time,
Slick upon the dock,
Boots wet with dew and delusion.
As moth to verdant flame,
Pulses and throbs
At the speed of the board.
Not a beacon,
Not a promise—
It is a dream,
Made in seven moves,
For love of an idea,
A perfect vision.
A green window,
Pierced and gazed through
To see your soul.
Or maybe just
The shape of my own
Reflected back.
I wrote this after finding myself peering at that little green dot in scrabble that indicated you were playing the game. For a long time it was comfort knowing you were there and well. That's the best social medial lurk I could manage for a luddite friend such as you.
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Thank you for coming here and walking through the garden of my mind. No day is as brilliant in its moment as it is gilded in memory. Embrace your experience and relish gorgeous recollection.
Into every life a little light will shine. Thank you for being my luminance in whatever capacity you may. Shine on, you brilliant souls!
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