Young (youngjang) wrote,

The Lighthouse

The lighthouse sits so that from afar,
it appears to float into the sea,
where the ominous callings of ships
seem to melt into the salt spray.

And I sit,
close enough to hear the secret sounds,
but with distance growing behind my eyes.

Upon my rocking chair,
I can feel the surge of waves
and taste the night waning beneath the clock's hands,
as the low golden light
flickers before settling
upon your sleeping form.
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