Icarus, so much like me,
curious, with faint, fragile wings,
and flying, you watched scared,
but have you seen such a sun?
And yes, it is so hot, so bright and red,
But it feels cold, memories of a star at night,
sometime in December, our breath mixing together,
before we let go of wonder.
Burnt skin of summer becomes the crispy leaves of fall,
stars clearer and colder,
ice under our feet as we stand,
looking up into a thousand beating souls.
A beautiful lilting write which so well expresses how we all feel when the dream grows cold! :) kath x