my lighthouse keeper

We tried to run again, but sleep got wise to our tricks and she caught up with us this time.
Still, it was without resent that we went to her arms, slightly abashed, like children caught hiding from their bath.
Now in the grey morning she gentles us with a warm breeze and muted skies
I think the world wants me to be in love- the boy with waves in his eyes and summer in his curls tastes of blueberries and lighthouse floors, letters tucked away to be read generations from now and rocking chairs with stories in the sanded grain.

The leaves are coming back you know. A greener green than before. Winter was worth the wait.

(photos are both mine and from here)