Was it
a sea gull flying late in the night,
Or just
a lone maple floating and resting light;
Be it a
hand held to dispel the fear of heights,
Or
simply an encompassing band of crimson skies.
Darkness of the mind, enfolding a numbed loss,
Tears
flowing unheeded unable to stop,
Intermittent grief at something deeply felt,
That
was transient yet so very blessed.
A
listless glance through the window broad,
Expecting to encounter pitch darkness abroad
And
total ebony obscurity all above and below,
But
found instead, a thick band of an orange glow.
Tears
stemmed, peace returned like a warm cloak,
From
that late night unexpected crimson show,
A
vision that had never ever been seen before
Telling
me, to merely look and find him there galore
