Feathery fields on high cliffs,
Moonlit nights in towers of light.
A forgetful time of love and regret.
A time of child's play.

Letters to ash,
Ash to nothing.
A burning fire in my clutch.
A returned state of amnesia.

A place of bad and good memories,
A place to seclude myself,
A place of peace and comfort.

My dear one,
Here and now gone,
Won't come back.
My precious moments I hold there,
That gentle little lighthouse.


© Hannah McGavran