LANTERNHEART

I met this bloke once—

Sunny Gumdrop, yeah?

Not his real name, I hope,

but that’s what he called himself,

like he’d stepped straight out of a children’s book

and into a night bus.

He sat down next to me, eyes big as planets,

like he was seeing the world

for the first time

and loving every weird corner of it.

He said,

“Mate… humans are miracles with coffee cups.”

And I laughed like he was joking—

but he wasn’t.

He meant it.

Dead serious.

So serious it made me stop

and actually think about it.

He glowed.

Not metaphorically,

I mean this man carried warmth

like other people carry keys.

He had joy like a lantern in the snow.

And for the first time in ages

I felt like someone saw something in me

I didn’t even know was still switched on.

Lanternheart, shining in the dark,

Gumdrops falling like blessings from the bark.

Softness as a weapon, hope as a spark—

Some people light the room,

He lights the whole damn park.

Lanternheart…

and he handed me a bit of it.

He told me he came from a place

called Glimmerberry Grove—

where snowflakes shine rainbow

and laughter grows on trees like fruit.

I said,

“That sounds made up.”

He said,

“So’s misery, mate—

but people swear by it anyway.”

Then he looked at me,

really looked,

like my face was a constellation

he was trying to memorise.

Said he could see colours around emotions.

Said mine looked like

a kettle that’s just about to boil—

warm, restless, hopeful

if I’d let myself be.

Honest to God,

nobody’s ever said something

that kind to me on purpose.

And I thought—

how brave can a man be

to walk into a cold world

with his joy unarmoured

and his heart unhidden?

How soft do you have to be

to still choose wonder?

Lanternheart, glowing in the frost,

Words swirling like cocoa steam across the lost.

Kindness bending air like a midsummer ghost—

He taught me joy’s not weakness;

it’s what costs the most.

Lanternheart…

and he shared it like a toast.

Sometimes I worry I’m too heavy,

too wounded,

too sarcastic

for men like him.

He worries he’s “too much,”

too bright,

too soft

for men like me.

But maybe—

maybe that’s the point.

He’s the sparkler

and I’m the dark street he lights up.

He’s mittens warm from the dryer

and I’m the hands that didn’t know

they needed warming.

He’s the candy-colour laugh

and I’m the bloke who forgot

he could taste sweetness.

But together?

Mate…

together we make a whole new weather.

Lanternheart, shining through the storm,

Hope glowing in mittened hands, soft and warm.

A soul bright enough to make miracles form—

He walked into my night

and changed its whole damn norm.

Lanternheart…

and maybe I can glow too,

if I don’t look away.

Sunny said everyone’s got a bit of sparkle left,

even the tired ones.

I didn’t believe him.

Not until the moment

I saw mine reflected

in his wide-eyed grin.

And now…

mate, I swear:

I’ll keep my little lantern lit

because some people

deserve to see it shine.