Somedays, my brother and I lean on sunrise;
learning from each other in silence.
Our changing shadows speak us home,
as the sky casts us palettes
and the Sun tears the last of night from the sky;
a kiss of a greeting
and ghost of warmth
Darkness is a shear we learnt
to use whilst floating.
We speak the silence of home and familiar, and know.
Watch a rush hour in the sky
as restless clouds busy themselves with escaping our
gaze as we hold this abyss and old friend, our own.
We speak the silence of home
on a bank of dreams we refuse to regret
The Moon squinting at this brilliance.
Sunset and Sunrise, the only beauties
we have not learnt, but know.