For C.
Reluctantly, our hands fingers fingertips release you,
your small boat of folded white paper
slipping away, gently lapped from the shore.
So fragile your vessel, bobbing on the dark, open water,
heading inexorably out to the limitless sea,
bearing just your singular candle, bright flame.
Across deep of night and long, liquid distance
we strain to stretch our limited seeing and vision,
longing to follow your going as far as we can.
But before you are borne away into vanishing,
your boat enters an armada, incandescent.
Your particular flame disappears, but the many burn bright.
Ann Keiffer
June, 2010
Photo Credit: John Keiffer
