Unspent DawnsI arrived to you as a harbor battered by its own waves, salt‑scored, muttering to gulls that never answered. In your quiet courtyard my storms fell silent— we planted lemons in the clay and their small roots took hold the way forgiveness does: unseen, unhurried. I walked the corridors of myself, lantern lifted, so the dark could witness me no different than the noon‑bright street. Each shadow I carried bent to its knees, learning the discipline of light.
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