by Richard Vince

Escapism is difficult when
There is nothing to escape.
This ceased to be my hiding place
When I ceased to hide.

This is the peace for which
My heart was searching while
I insisted on looking the other way,
Chasing what I did not want
To catch, finding passion
That burned too fiercely.

She has reminded me of
The long forgotten beauty that
Hides subtly in the everyday,
Too far into the foreground
For eyes focussed elsewhere
As mine used to be.

For my eyes to widen like
A child’s, I no longer need to
Travel: wonder is in her eyes,
And in the world I see
Through them.

She is at one with it all,
A tapestry woven from beauty
And joy, a peaceful home at last
For my travel weary heart.


Posted on 01/10/2017
Copyright © 2022 Richard Vince

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