Light is different here,

shining cotton candy pink,

shadows like cherry syrup stretching from

chocolate dunes around an inland sea,

and the waves don't crash

or roar in battle with the shore,

they sneak in with a sigh.

Time is different here,

creeping from dawn to dusk

the way summers stretched long

when I was only six,

before I learned that life is finite,

and the stars that glitter in

the dark are strangers.

Dreams are different too,

what I remember colored by distance

and the fact of living with no

hope or promise for tomorrow,

memories fading a little more with

each transit of silver moons,

a brave explorer with no one

to come home to.

Light is different here,

and I wish you could see how

cotton candy pink sparkles on

the top of whispering waves,

how cherry shadows stretch long

toward shore as night falls,

and I'd ask you to help me name

the stars that glitter in the dark,

hanging promises on each one.

Light is different here.

I wish you could see.