(no subject)

[thepenchant]

My thoughts fled to you once more, marvelled at the way you came into my life, first a whisper of the soft January breeze; the rest of the years spoke your name. Your came in like light shining through the armor of trees, the first leaf reaching for spring...you were like the last day of winter- bokehs of sunshine dancing on the dirty rain wrought walls; the lone petal swimming, salmon-like, upstream.

If light makes shadows then are shadows the child of light?
In a world held in waiting no amount of light can wean away the darkness.