It was not the flock of stars
in her eyes, falling from the sky,
resting upon the sea that led me.
It was not her voice pure as prayer,
a mist embracing, caressing,
dancing slowly that delivered me.
It was not her smile that drifted
silently across my spirit, the fire
of a new star sparkling that carried me.
It was the sound of her soul, washing
over me, a hushed whisper,
a silver stream of cascading lights
shimmering across the Holy Night.
Copyright © Deborah Gregory 2014