The longest day

Was wild

Was fun

With number one

My precious son

Who charms

And smiles

And plays

And whiles 

Away the day

That stretches

Until the very fabric

Of dusk is 

Thin

Like ancient parchment

On which is scribed

The secrets of

The universe

Then waking post solstice:

Rain and gloom and

Fog and doom and

Mundane madness

Mot, plug faulty, 

Purse empty

Child grumpy 

Bed lumpy; weak cup of tea…

A headache grows

And blows the beauty

Out of mind

But stay, and pray;

What is that stray

Beam of beauty

Falling through my curtain?

Lugh’s promise: Balor’s gaze.

A vow of brighter days.

I smile, and blues are fading

In the haze.

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