were the cardinal points, the belief
air could not mess my hair in mischief,
were the map and compass, you were fair winds
the calmest seas anyone imagined.
were the deep woods, you were the sunshade,
were the rare skyblue that did not fade
the staunch white roof, also the winding route,
known and the uncharted and its pursuit.
you walk among the stars, leave no mark
you come to check on yours in the dark,
grieve and I do not grieve that you are gone –
are never far and I am not alone.
that’s faintly like a torn atlas
left behind on the shelf for all of us.