A Dream Returned Home- The Ancient One

Unpenned, not erased
Did nervousness perhaps stall?
Until the last day?

I find hands aching
Like an echo from the first
Feeling absent form

"We will write the next."
These words buoy hardest times
Somehow still not stale

I find you wide eyed
A sip of coffee sets tone
Launching our vessel

Still I bite my tongue
With one question on my mind
But mine to answer

Information seeps
Spilling forth reflexively
I can’t help but parse

"How does this puzzle
Result in what I have seen?"
"Time, Times, Half A Time."

Frustrating echo
Still, the touch of your hand sooths
As if yesterday

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