they tell me,
by my side,
back to the lands of Light.
fused with honey'd sun and
running its soft waves upon
my closed eyes.
I wish nothing more than to
within these half-dreams -
to drift and forget
in the heavy warmth
As if we were still
upon the Road,
I feel you beside me,
your breath narrowed
waiting with a troubled patience
that denies time.
I gather the sweetness of my dreams to me,
holding them as I would the summer blossoms
It is time to come back to the world.
Trees with leaves gold as the sun.
Sky soft with white-wisped blue.
and voices I do not know,
hushing in whispers and shouts.....
spilling like crystal water into the day.
I never thought to hear you laugh again.
I must laugh myself:
At your side, in the very grass of the field,
rests a glazed pot and two cups.
Sea-blue and rose-red they are.
the soft smell of leaves,
deep-drifted in lazy, sun-warmed, caramel autumn
from the pot.
It is better than ale, this.
It speaks of Home.
I see you must pour with your left hand.
I cannot make words pass my lips.
Your thumb sketches circles upon the warmed,
earthen-blue of the cup,
your fingers hold to it so tightly I fear that it
can hold a cup
in my left hand,
too, you know.
the haven of your cloak.
The white of the binding
Like warm earth embracing
the brown of my hand covers
In silence, we share
the ordinary comfort of the tea.
With a joy
by eyes which will not meet mine,
nothing shall be
to you -
I bow my head
and find a smile
an ordinary smile
for a most ordinary hobbit.