Heartbeats skipping hopscotch rhymes
Sands of time, turn over
And over until we are not counting the days but
Counting multiples of sixty seconds
Until we are land ho and home
I was in danger of crashing into
The jagged edges of my own misery
Then you returned and brought with you
The light I needed and now
I can see with more
Than just my eyes, little Lighthouse.
K. Thwaites