Comments about Emer Lyons
</></>How one memory can make a life, one moment.
I heard your buckle rattle in the night; I hid myself under the duvet cover: Pretending not to spy.
Your feet are at my head, in “our” wooden crooked bunk beds.
I don’t even know your name but we’d a conversation earlier and I thought you were nice.
Twenty four hours is enough to know anyone in this kind of lifetime.
I smile at you in the morning in light peeking through the curtains.
I would flick the switch and light t