I lit one last candle
I waited until Dark
All these weeks
All these hopes
My smile my poetry
wasn’t Luminaria enough

The road to traipse
in pilgrimage
was safer than the one
that Dorothy skittered along
in search of home
sure the one
she took for granted
was lost

I’ve no soft soil
in which to bury
what I have of Mirage You
Photographs and messages
never made manifest

One candlelight
I shudder barefoot
next to it
As fragile as fleeting
as you
so soft
Upon my Imagined Countenance

c2012 GC Cameron
For R