in a year of gray days
you burn brighter
than any sun -
your warmth
heals old wounds,
washing clean
the scars of a broken past
the gentle beam of your smile
turns the sorrow of the year's defeats
into victory -
I feel I'd never won,
until now.
what do you put down
when the work calls to you,
when it scratches
at the edge of your conscience,
desperate -
what thread
that keeps you balanced
do you let fall
in hope of a success
threatening to unravel
all you have crafted
