I may find again
The promise and the calm
We once thought
As a stormy story
It was an old
story
Yet poetry and ordinary
And lonesome walks
In smoky train stations
And, like after an August rain
Waves left the mossy rocks
And the beach dried in the sun
Still touching the bluest sea
And I found, in that respite,
The promise to walk on unmoon nights
Without leaving shadows behind
And it became my road
My way
September 8, 2024
