yesterday’s sunlight

Golda Fukesman
Nov 5 · 1 min read
Image by cocoparisienne from Pixabay

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.

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Golda Fukesman

Written by

Content writer, explorer, aspiring doula. Seeking the wild and the true🍃🌾

Soul & Sea

Poetry of the mystics

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