They came like rain
Those nights and dawns,
Like gold, wanton storms;
Black, velvet sheaths
That covered and held
Filaments of beauty
Nocturnal whiffs of the easterly
Tangled in open hair,
Messy and strong and braided
With memories of us there…
By the sea, gazing at a constellation
Of innocent, fairy lights,
That descended to crown and serenade
A thousand passing nights.
On the shore, feeling the tenderness
That cloaked those luminous boats
On the fringe, wondering against reason
How exactly do dreams float?
Those nights that came like rain,
Would end with cold flames in the skies;
They’d begin with uncertain hellos,
They’d end with unspoken goodbyes.
Written in gratitude for the night trips to town for fruit and cream, for the breath-taking view of the harbour when the day's split between ending and beginning, for the overflow of the heart, for the reminder that it is still possible to get so foolishly happy about some things still.