General   (General discussion, talk about anything.)

SHE IS SITTING BY THE OPEN WINDOW


No other moment, as perfect as this.
Solitude comes now,
on this late Sunday afternoon.
My journey here,
by woodland paths and endless summer dawns;
by sunsets and night birds gathered.
Your journey,
by the long road-
of hope, but tarnished by deceit;
that imposter that weighed you down.
This was to be:
our courses separated by two stormy seas.
This gift of you,
sent by the powers that have long
eyed us from afar.
You have come to me
late-
not by fate, or chance,
but brought together by our star-
long shining over that western sea.
A crescent light,
she shines for all who are weary
a beacon guiding us home.

Home now:
by the fading light,
your scent on the cushions,
your fingers, delicate,
sewing your rose-petal pillow...

...sitting by the open window.


Jarvo 2020