When she was little, she didn’t know the right words to say
but I knew what she meant.
She flung the door open and cried that summer’s day:
‘I want my sun shining broken!’
I’d opened the curtains to let the sun shine in;
she wanted them closed. Children enjoy the dark
but I don’t, and now
my sun shining is broken
and my world is so, so dark.
First published in Reach