Mayfly

Leaves are gone,
May is months away.
I’m here alone
wishing my friend could stay
past a day of equal light and dark.

I will meet you two times a year
at the equinoxes
to exchange notes;
my scribbled words on paper
with your timing and tones in the air.

Isn’t it strange,
that when the heavy curtain lifts off the stage,
the dancers are still there from last time;
frozen until the music begins?

Of all the wishes
I could make for you,
I would wish for the Goddess
to come to your pillow each night,
and make believe with you
that you could live
only for one day.
How many miles
of joy and pain
would you fit into that 100-yard dash?
You, who has traveled through the darkest night
to reach the surface of light.

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