They go out one by one, like small green promises the dark couldn’t keep.
You catch them in a jar, leave the lid loose, and still they find the seam.
By morning the glass is just glass, the light a rumor you almost remember.
We do the same — hold what glows, call it ours, and wonder why it fades
when we finally close our hands.
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Author:
ROSHI (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 21st, 2026 04:50
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 10
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
Lovely William a great metaphor written so softly it brings back memories. A fave my friend
Thank you so much
Most welcome William
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