A world I’ve never seen holds me dear,
Something from beyond etched in grey, I stand in exile on a distant shore,
With none to guide my way.

I can smell the sweet brown loam of the Shire,
I am certain of the round green door, I can sense the rhythm of the great Red Book,
Whose pages I long to explore.

The soft yellow of elanor,

The pale gold of a mallorn-tree,
Mist of silver on mountains high,
These still cry out to me.

Something in me belongs back there,

But I can not get through,
Something in me loves the colors of that world, With shades so frail yet true.

But, as my eyes lift up,
To catch its golden dawn,
I blink, I turn, and in a glance, Its colors all are gone.

And I am left behind,
With tones of grey and white,
Memories of my living past, Locked in a mirror of light.

 
Sharon Bice