I have no gilded card to send,
no quill to write beautiful
words that still say I’m so sorry.
sometimes the daybreak dazzles me dizzy
but it has never been as beautiful as you, Dawn.
and what have I done? crushed the wings
of an angel like brushing powder from a moth’s;
I only wanted to help you fly as you should.
the closest pair of cupped hands
can’t hold water unless you work magic,
and perhaps what I wove was wrong
but not a lie; never a lie.
these same hands that I hold empty now
of you I hope to fill nowhere else but here
with bouquets and baskets of joy for you;
summoning dolphins to dance with you;
tickling babies to laugh with you.
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