sweetness

Burning candles.

While I rock my heels,

Discarded fingernails

Are a reminder of each day.

Vaguely,

Vaguely thought of

And reconsidered - the ideas of what was.

What I'll miss.

Moving forward,

I'm called to find my own way

North or West,

Unknown 'til we get there.

Unimportant, unthinkable until we light another match

And study each other in the fire-lit tunnels we laugh in.

Needing the tender touch of palms

The folding of fingers

In knowing the roughness they faced,

The methodic picking, scratching, scarring.

Where the prey must heal themselves for the next day

As a clock might aimlessly click past the seventh hour

Since the fox decided enough was enough.

I'll know it,

Know it when I see it -

The recognition of the fox's sly, cunning ways.

Every day, washing the fluff of the wool it tries to dye bright and brilliant

Less a lamb

Every moment the wax slides over the edge of the candle,

Into the abyss

Where diamonds grow.