I carved into your overflowing thoughts with a jack knife,
And with my bare hands, I scooped out a mound of seedy, strawberry jam,
Expecting ice cream for dessert-
But lately you just haven’t been able to hold it together.
My lighthouse guidance isn’t bringing you back from sea this time,
I dread you’re ensnared by a heavy fog, or worse,
And you missed the dance.
It’s difficult to see ahead. I have been there.
Tonight I’m hoping,
The moon will eventually vanish from your cradling eyes,
Along with the palling darkness you welcome,
And my beacon will guide you back to shore; where you belong.
Follow the silver notes and dance along the sandbars,
Watch the sun grow, and ripen time into lush guidance.