A Part of the Light

The Peaceful Pub

No longer anchored by time
a gentle breeze blows.

Light becomes fluid
rides a line of waves.

I will miss each new
turn and tune of universe,
fairies who tend to shoots
of men’s dreams,
the way the laughter
of children lifts.

Quiet rushed in when you left.
Your pen, your paint,
part of the light moved
to a different plane.

Stars opened,
Sang out your name.
Come home. Come home.

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