Context: She likes fairy lights.
A tangled web of copper, thin and slight,
You string along the corners of the wall,
To pin against the heavy dark of the night
A dozen sparks that flicker as they fall.
They are not grand, those decorative strands,
Just minor shimmers suspended on a thread,
Arranged and altered by your patient hands
To cast a warmth where harsher lights have fled.
Across the miles, the glowing pixels trace
The amber constellation you designed,
Illuminating all at once the quiet space
And leaving the exhausted day behind.
You sit beneath that artificial sky,
While half a world away, my morning breaks.
I watch the steady, golden embers lie,
And measure all the distance that it takes.
Perhaps this is what the fairy lights display:
Small flickering sparks, holding midnight at bay.
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