Little Lighthouse

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

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