Radiance

You did not see the star
touching your chimney
nor did you feel the moon
touching your shoulder.

You yearned for the shift of the seasons,
expected the change of the clocks,
but not the shift of the colours,
the liquid gold in the air.

You did not see your radiance,
but someone else did,
your grace that carries like scent
before you have spoken a word.

When the sky was blue glass,
when the moon was a sphere,
a hand held up a mirror,
a wind kissed your hair.

Christina Egan ©2021