Souvenir of Light

Time weaves a tapestry of minutes,
threads of rain that gleam in the dawning light,
and memory stretches out, discreet and patient.
Each drop is a word returning back,
a face that refuses to fade away,
a footstep paused within the flow of time.
So time gives them as souvenirs of light,
small things that tremble at the day’s soft sigh,
and gleam when the morning breaks anew.
We walk through shadows that still brightly glow,
gathering flashes of the now like stars in a pocket,
till our hearts remain bright and simply whole.