yesterday’s sunlight
Nov 5 · 1 min read

paint a dream of yesterday —
bury your arms in mud.
stories seep from skull to skin,
and spill out like a flood.
in between the there and now,
the ash grey sky bows to pray —
for you to strip it bare somehow,
and then clothe the fading light of day
with eternal golden morn.
we all cast spells for some days to stay —
those days we felt reborn.


