A star twinkles, beautiful they see…
So far, unfathomable by thee…
Closer you go, the fire it burns…
Giving the soothing light…
While its heart and mind, ablaze in turns.
Constellations form, light years away…
Jock Tamson’s Bairn, always have a way…
Dots are spotted, among billions they say…
Sense injected, into randomness at play…
Stars connected happy and gay.
Constellation was incomplete, a star missing…
Scottish it was, humanity sipping…
Magical hands, wit at its best…
Writes she when, swells the pen’s chest…
Words shared together, the search came to rest.
Happy she was, sad she felt…
A teacher a mother, in her all the goodness dwelt…
Light she radiates, heat she suffer…
Soon the wind blows, cools the burning mother…
And with constellation complete, its time for supper.
Written for a beautiful blogger whose words never fail to impress and inspire. Thank you @scottishmomus ( I still have…
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Ancien Hippie 