Fidelity – Poem

Fidelity

These days are not grey 
as I will remember.
These days of low fresco skies
watercolor apples 
bruised
life, still life. 

These nights not empty 
as I will remember,
of silver moons,
cinnamon light. 

So much depends on forgetting.
But one promise 
I will remember 
every day 
each jewel of light 
grinds down to cool darkness.