Do you remember that day–
that heavy, feeling, day
when you and I first met?
The gentle sun had just set,
sinking with the onset
of night, cold and freeing.
And I sat there– just being,
quiet and unseeing,
stuck with my wandering thoughts.
When you walked by, you brought
a spectre of hate and rot–
of blood and fiery glee.
But still, you sat with me,
under that gnarled beech tree
where the gentle leaves swayed.
And maybe that day, the shade
which leeched you like nightshade,
Faded, just a little.
That day, the moon glowed a little brighter.