Day Six: Wistful Memory of Laughter

the descent is in quiet contemplation
what was
will never be again
the gates are open
yet more imprisoned
the quiet flutter of wings
cannot be, chained to higher planes.
wistful calling,
the right to sing the song of friends

the calling of the past
is a singular voice, echoing
through the novel daylight
dandelion wishes
swept on mercurial winds
the flitting wings sending
a remembrance of laughter to distant lands.
wistful calling,
the right to sing the song of friends

in the mirror pool, regard the
lands forfeit to the mortals
whence there was laughter
and a child kissed in magic
till they came, with the scars,  the gates
were closed, hiding drooping wings
leaving, leaving behind a
wistful calling,
the right to sing the song of friends

***

Doing things from the past, meeting up with old friends. Saturday was a good day. Poem inspired by a picture prompt, I leave you to make your own image. Don’t forget the fairies…

~Tally

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