So quietly you exited:
Slipping through the fingers of the world
as it looked in another direction. Winter encroaching
the Texan bluesky muted by the small black and white television
that chattered incessantly. The air was filled with facts and suppositions
as we learned new words: ‘motorcade’, ‘depository’, ‘knoll’, ‘gunman’.
You knew none of that; instead
Your dreams were filled once more with visions of the stars
Of melting snow, the ice of the ages dissolved into chattering streams.
As we stretched our minds wider to allow for a time where this was possible
your mind already expanded to allow for talking beasts and dancing trees.
The colour drained from the world’s eye, leaving only
a speck of vivid pink against the grey; whilst you
set out, umbrella in hand, to find
the golden brightness of a lion’s mane.