𝔞𝔡 𝔡𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔱𝔞
to you who acknowledged my courage,
thank you
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I've lost count of moons,
But the suns are nearing three,
We wax and wane —
Both Luna and me;
August's tears drenched our cheeks,
Soil embraced our weary feet,
A waxing moon above our heads,
And a sapling blossomed in discreet;
As the first sun sets,
I was headed to a wane,
But as the second sun rises,
I waxed as it rained;
The sapling budded on a slow pace,
My mind's a mess — what did it grow?
Though it was nowhere near vermilion,
It was a contenting yellow.
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May's Harvest | Inkyspecs | 2022
