Eroding

Trees dress in violent green; wind hauls the dawn.
Sky remains stitched to dark—yet birdsong cracks the gloom,
sun-flushed leaves dance, air’s silent hymn.
My sleep drowns in no sunrise—
I only live at the present
unspool my spirit to embrace the whispering earth—
so I might hold your horizon in my hands.

I saw you: entire. No shadows cut—
your pupil’s cold star burns against my ribs,
though continents crowd between us,
stripping night from my path.

I ride the wind’s spine, chasing your ghost of jasmine,
as you blaze—fixed, a comet in my sky.
Let me fall; I’ll land with only your name,
your face, engraved on my heart.

Strayed. Stayed. Never rooted.
Now I kneel at day’s first breath, vowing:
I’ll trace your shadow daily before I go.

If doubt still bleeds your trust,
Let the Moon be my heart.