They hear him on the sigh... by Janette Le Fay (happyhobbits@hotmail.com)
They hear him on the sigh of the cool West Wind,
Hear him in the shadows where the rivers flow in,
See him in the moonlight spatters painted on the grass,
See him there behind them in the bedroom looking glass,
Smell his scent of new-picked apples, flowers in his hair,
They turn around to catch him but their fingers close on air.
They feel him in the darkness tracing patterns on their skin
They call to him but he's outside and now can't come back in.
They taste him in the snowflakes winter tosses on their tongues,
They find him in the ballads that the Elf-kind once sung.
In each other's hands and eyes, in each other's faces,
He's been gone for years but they can still find traces
Of love that clings and weaves a rope to catch them when they fall,
A love whose ling'ring presence means he never left at all.
~
Pretty Good Year