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Tenacity of Lace

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Musings #53

THE JOURNEY                

                      for Jo

 

On its winter way west, the sun

inches its way up the aisle,

striking your framed photograph

through stained glass.

 

       Your face lit up like the moment

I ran out of answers, and we could,

at last, begin.

 

       Your face the one I saw speaking

inside of me – until I could see,

hear, myself.

 

Afterward, I stand outside

and let go my hold of ribbon –

balloon aloft and adrift

in a bruised-purple dusk.

 

 

 

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