Robert,
Where are you in the diadem?
I cannot find you in dreams.

And perhaps I pushed him
Away to save him the watching
Of my dying someday.
I do wonder.

I step lightly into this goodnight
Having stopped to glance the moon
O’er long, the clouds fast transforming
And feel the coolness, smell the richness
Of the approaching hour.

And I worry about you, Tommy mine,
Your quest is in my thoughts and prayers.

Echoing the twig that snaps sharp
And startling, the sudden intake of
Breath, the heart beats fast.

The cold is forming, numbing, ready.