It is that,
which should not be there.
Revealed
In the lightshade of a restaurant,
the windowsill of a shop.
That reminds,
brings forward more
than a thought;
A yearning,
an ache.
A vision of that
which hovered
above you in those last
moments.
That still connects.
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To sit,
Silently
Sharing duty
With your sentinel tree.
Seeking solace
In summer sun
That shines
And shimmers
From the symbols
That statefully
Signal
You…..
My Son