My friend,
you are so lovely
but you cannot see.

You do not know that
nothing that happened before
can provide for you now.
Memory will not keep you
warm or happy or content.

Summer will not provide snow
and this time you cannot have both.

The night is thick and soft and does
not yield to your desire or sadness.

The color red bursts through
your closed eyes and you
cannot pretend not to see.

Soon daylight will come
proclaiming against
the dark.

The sunrise is the color of berries,
and like blood it greedily spreads
not wanting to leave anything


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