Juvenescence

Blow out the candle and make a wish.
Blow out the candle and say goodnight.
•
You come to me as stranger. 
You come to me as friend.
You come staggering past midnight,
drunk, hungry and with a story to tell.
•
You, asleep on the couch,
asleep in the shadows
Angels attending you with needle and thread
sewing emeralds into your skin.
•
There, carved into the palms of your hands are windows,
leaking light past our solemn borders.
These are refugees building home with trembling alphabets.
These are calloused wanderers
in driftwood languages of love.

You appear where you do not belong,
Where you have no song to sing
Where no one knows your name
Nor laughter is to be shared
and upon the vacant aperture of exile,
You welcome all men unto yourself harboring no prejudice between the living and the dead.
You remind gravediggers, there are seeds within the soil
And to the living
You break the bread.
.
.
You come to me early and unannounced.
You come to me late
When I’ve settled into bed.
You come with no discretion of time, a tangled order of old and young.
You come to me smiling,
No. You come with a smirk.
You come to me in mischief.
Ten fingertips all aflame.
You come to me in wisdom.
You come dressed in
juvenescence.
.
.
.
.
.
.
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