I catch a sunbeam  
and slip it in my pocket  
thinking I will bring it to you. 
We meet at sunset, 
after you have finished your work in the garden
and I have written my last word of the day.
Before the evening fire I open my hands
to show you the little beam I have caught —
but it went to sleep
and became invisible…
as sleeping Light often does.
You believe in my little gift,
though you cannot see it,
as you believe in something great
in me, though neither I
nor any other…
can yet see it.
/Blake Steele 
Kategori: Life, Poetry; Taggar: Blake Steele, Ingela Axkrants, a beautiful life, dikt, poem, poesi, poetry;
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