Atlas

 

You were the cardinal points, the belief

mere air could not mess my hair in mischief,

you were the map and compass, you were fair winds

and the calmest seas anyone imagined.

 

You were the deep woods, you were the sunshade,

you were the rare skyblue that did not fade

and the staunch white roof, also the winding route,

the known and the uncharted and its pursuit.

 

Now you walk among the stars, leave no mark

as you come to check on yours in the dark,

I grieve and I do not grieve that you are gone –

you are never far and I am not alone.

 

Something that’s faintly like a torn atlas

you’ve left behind on the shelf for all of us.