Canopy

You have your world
In your bed
Warm as molten
Rock
Mountain fingers
Through grass blade hair

(Looking at life through a convex lens
In the care of my caracol shell)
All I have
(Staring at light and how it bends)
Is the cold
(Until it blinds me)
Seeping through
(Naïve, knelt)
My window
(Cobblestone fields under foot)
Like frost onto
(As foreign as the sunshine...)
A wilted petal (...whose warmth heats homes of soot)
(But fails to thaw night-time)



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