The light was yours, but the glass was mine
Stained with Aurora's glow
And figured like the rippling sea
Softening your glare
To paint a picture
You could have never
Colored on your own
I saw a sonnet where there's a word
I heard a ballad where there's a note
Your trees were forests
Your mole hills, mountains
Under my stained glass
I treated teardrops like tsunamis
And I ate crumbs like four-course meals
Will you forgive me?
The light was yours
But the glass was mine