When You Wave Goodnight

To the little light that sits at my bedside,

today we have watched two thousand

sunsets and sun and moon rises.

Your little light is black and

white, with fur that feels like a

star would soaring across twilight

skies. Your eyes are rich and otherworldly;

two brown planets set alight by the sun’s gaze. If

you stare as planets do then you see the sun staring back

as me. That is too soft a judgement, little light. Though –

you do make me feel that bright. Especially when my

feet land on your side of the door and you channel

the power of the sea, swirling and churning

and climbing to peaks that few have

thought to breach, taking

gravity too seriously.

But seriously, I don’t think

you understand that when your

body moves blue the drum in my chest

does too because it could never bruise when

I see you. And I see you all the time, little light,

every night. I will see you until more than an infinite

number of sunrises have strolled by. But now let’s

go to sleep where I’ll see you again in dreams,

and never would I turn out your light when

I say goodnight .