A little something inspired by Canda Verse #599



Alas the parting of The Poet!
~
What now for the books that sit there rusting
draped in a dusty veil of webbing?
What now for the lone quill
too afraid now to move.
~
A righteous glow beams from a small stained-glass window.
Sparkling dust drifting on a dead poet's breath.
~
A lifetime of thought lost in a single turn of the kaleidoscope
taken from the Desk,
caressed by a hand,
kissed by an eye,
rests on the floor,
by The Chair,
basking in the warm soft brilliance of the Mourning Star.
~
Peace
Solitude
Infinity
Freedom...at last.