“choirs of stars appearing…”

The gifts you leave behind

there are no words for,

this bouquet of memories

leaves a scent of a doorway

to concertina-d time,

where I’d wake in the night

so gently enveloped

by the musical dreams

of a fellow insomniac,

composing your art on piano,

transposing your sight onto canvas,

our hearts

pressed up against the glass in wonder

at our endless sight.

But the only glass that reveals now

is filling

with the ends of sand.

 

7 thoughts on ““choirs of stars appearing…”

hi. friendly banter is always welcome.

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