I promise
to be always your lamplight.
Rooted outside your window even
when the cold is breaking me.
And always your room
will be lit by my bulb,
even dimly, sometimes,
but I will glow if I can, when
I can’t, I will flicker
your fingers and nightlight
your walk home. Though I
cannot claim to be
the brightest light you will find,
I will be constant, and will
be your window’s sunrise.
There will be days I may start
to burn you. I will try to
not be the fire and only
the light, I am sorry
when I don’t get that right.
And

I promise
to be always your window
I will show you
the most beautiful things.
Lay your head near me;
hear how easy you make
my wind breath. Let me
whisper you lilac, and
cool your pillow before
you sleep. I cannot claim
to be the world, but I can
show it to you, and what you
want to, you can see through me.
There will be
days when I will not open,
when the force of your
fingers even cannot pry
fresh air from me,
when this happens,
I am sorry. And

I promise
to be always your pillow.
Yes lumpy, yes old, yes
imperfect and feather leaking;
I know I am like this
in the same way I know I am yours.
I cannot claim to be the silk
or the dream, but I can always
try to help you to sleep.
You may rest your head on me
at the end of each long day,
I was made just to carry that weight,
I can promise you that.