Frodo Goes Over Sea

- jan-u-wine

2: I Begin to Sing of Earendil

Silence echoes back against my ear.

I look about one last time.

Odd, the small things I will notice:

the grey coldness
of the ash
lying within the lonely hearth;
an old cloak,
faded green to grey
upon its hook;
Sam's roses,
droop-headed in the yellow-watered vase.

My fingers trace the brass-bound beauty of the door:
the key falls from my hand,
and lies just there
upon the floor.

My heart beats slow in my throat.

I cannot pick it up.

I cannot go.

I stand in the twilight of the Row.

Somewhere, a sleepy, sweet-voiced bird bids the day

Bright stars
against the rose-velvet, faded blue of the sky.

My hand touches,
the gate's familiar

I begin to sing
as I walk
down the Hill.