Anniversary
       

No matter we drew the curtains—
the waking breeze opens
and folds them like the sea,

and though we welcomed the dark—
morning bids its departure
through every window, every door.

We were but children when we met—
now silver gathers in your hair like a dusting
of snow on the mountains in June.

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Copyright © 2019 Sean Sexton All rights reserved
from May Darkness Restore
Press 53
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission