Through Your Eyes

Sunrise is a moment
that will never see respect. A fleece
of fuzzy grays and cold whites mixed together,
like your favourite childhood friend's watercolour canvas,

keeping the sun somewhere between a world of glaring divinity and
              perpetual twilight.
And it should be blue. It should be gray. It should be a starmap
made upside down, like Uncle Michelangelo
came over for breakfast so he could fix that light on your ceiling.

Because there’s uncertainty
of rain and a possibility for
something more. Something that would make you
want to be alive, make you
leap outside and forget
an entire vocabulary of temperature, or bothersome
words like malaria.

Just so you might have a reason
to wear boots again, remember
moments like this are one
and the same from when you cried,
          "Man, days like this only exist in photographs."

Until you redefine
goosebumps and teardrops.
Until you realize, moments like this
are ephemeral, and they
only live a few minutes of every day.
Until you know, this is one day
of every day in your life, and they've always been
just like this.