Afterglow
Conversations, laughter and the mellow quiet in between Stitch the stressed patches of me Like rain falling on cracked mud; softening its edges.
Sometimes my people will be out of reach Our distance felt through screens and scribbles, Ghosts of past memories haunt brightly.
It helps then to gently remember Despite the fading afterglow – 'they will be back' Even the sun returns the next day.