You paint
empty corners
where sunlight
spikes the shadows.
Who am I
to understand
your truth?
You nightly
hide in dreams,
my child:
at least
you were
now grown
in beauty.
We talk
In whispers
aeons
separate & rent
our structure.
You hide:
an enigma
to me.
Your cells
still circulate
my blood,
& yet
like mountain
peaks we watch
but never cross
the ether.
Victoria Mosley 