The light weighs no more than seven pounds or one hundred,
fuses the two in joint weightlessness,
gifts a vision, transcendent,
reveals what was and is and a voice says, Come.
Question is not asked nor answer given though it hangs
on pillows and white cotton,
a wondering, hopeful question,
am I thus renewed
and the light blinks,
bats eyes in coy allusion,
it is not mine to tell
but lift, with me, this easy burden,
bring your child home.
Written for Mindlovemisery’s Photo Challenge #92 and Haddon Musings’ Senior Salon #3. For some reason, best known to my Kindle browser upgrade, I can’t copy and paste the links. I’ll do that when I fire up my laptop tomorrow – well, today, but I’m going to sleep now. Hope I wake! I hate an unfinished job.
Woke, worked, shopped, still doing, Merry Christmas, not wrapped yet but got the links updated. I call that a score. 😉