Orange light
leaks through
that crack.
It glows sore thumb
bright
under the blind,
can't be ignored.
You try,
but it throbs
awakening you
beneath the blankets,
where you wish
to hold back
time.
It's impossible.
They say, anything's possible,
but that's just crap,
bible verse, Hallmark card
wishes.
Could it be true?
You know little changes,
but the garden grows,
so you anticipate August
like the end of a week
hoping, maybe,
in some
stolen moment,
there will be fruit.
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