The warm light of the lamp that used
to comfort me when it was all dark.
No one was there. I saw the lamp, you gave it to me,
I pictured you,
and my fear went away.
I saw you through the lamp.
It was shiny and golden, just like your heart.
It comforted me, just like your voice.
Now it's dark again, and I look
at the lamp, and I picture you,
and it doesn't comfort me.
It's still the same thing. It always will be.
It's just your absence that makes it different.
The bright yellow light carries our memory,
each ray striking my heart instead of my eyes.
I didn't know it was our last summer together,
giggling at stupid things,
laughing at the superstitions the villagers believed,
the evening sky, a face in the clouds,
the swing ride we had together,
running till our knees collapsed.
I had the compass telling me the right direction.
How could I lose it?
I thought darkness was my biggest fear,
but as always, you taught me something new.
It wasn't.
It was losing people.
