Sun, sun,
it shelters us
in particular.

Rays of light,
stun my sight;
all the while
I find you
breathing miracle sighs.

We both claim we’re unhappy
in this season of disheartened gold.
As I go letting love out freely,
the garden shifts its soul.

No matter how hard you try,
you just can’t make a smile right.
When fireflies heat our mittens,
our world halts to a stage fright.

We keep wishing for better daybreaks.
Nights have become daunting whispers.
But as I light a candle for you,
I think I hear sparks of a slipper.

Maybe it’s happiness I recall,
maybe it’s nothing at all.
You change a phase, create a wave
vibrating between basement walls.

Moon, moon
you shy away love
in particular.


2 thoughts on “Unhappy

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