Memory is exhausting and uncertain,
Still divine certainty comes with waves of regret,
And yet we will fall
Into white lace,
White because pure,
Off-white because of regret
And it’s one more memory that holds us hostage.
Where were we when the world quit spinning?
When minds transformed,
Seeking above rather than below,
And how did they know how to fly?
I’ve jumped and fallen
And fallen again.
When will I find my wings?
If not in a dream,
When will they spring forth?
Like summer into winter they will soon whither.
I’ll still find hope in uncertainty,
In white lace outdone by an uncommon face,
And white because pure
And Off-white because of regrets
And regret found me alone and gave me a hand up,
Pointing above instead of below,
And my dress,
Like the winter
Remains Off-White and white as snow.