a poem by Trevor Allan McLeod, Canada

The end of my pen
Is neither now, or then.
It's a world we share.
Beginning to end.

It's a sky that's blue.
An earth that's rich.
With welcoming people.
Looking to stitch.

It's a meal
with family.
Warm and tasty.
Knowing they're
No one hasty.

It's the work you do
while watching your back.
in feeling their stares
An absence for prayers.

The knowing you'll rest,
and entering your den
In closing your eyes
Remembering then...

Could all this be...
at the end of my pen.

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