Every Morning, Over Oatmeal or The Apt Homonym



you rise
spilling fire
full of bold promise
bluster and a beauty
that burns

warned never to look
too close
make eye contact
we’ve learned to defer to you
quake and fear
an eruption
the moment
when you break apart

take your light away

leaving us cold
with only memories
of your former warmth

yet I remain convinced
that something so dazzling
made from star dust
and longing
surely must endure


Julie Ayers
NaPoWriMo 1



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