Caught

between stars and earth,

skimming boy and man,

you sail,

unfinished

in a memory,

a chalk face

washed away by the rain.

 

Doused,

while still

a kindling murmur,

your spark is now

buried in ash

and your words

have thinned to smoke.

 

Seeds of thought

yet to shoot,

your frail roots

broke

before the blush of blossom,

while the nubs of wings

banked your spine.

 

And so I will complete you:

adorn you

with golden wishes,

polish your fragments

and place you

in the whitest glint

so that I can find you

by your shine.