Forgotten callouses found again,
Bare beginnings discipline what was,
A dusty heap to flourish anew,
Further than before in reckless hope:
Cast greenery beyond the bounds of relic roots.

A little light,
Flies still in my corner view,
Just barely peeking out from the cracked darkness,
It flies Southeast from a creeping split in the door frame,
And the light floods out from another's room,
Out into the heart of the quiet attic,
Where it flies still in my corner view.