Twenty years is a long time
To be coming home.
Seven years of it
Under your spell
My face reflected
In limpid Adriatic water
As I crouch by the headland
Watching the empty sea
Tracking the brightness
Of the moon as it sears a path
Through the stars.

Winter comes and passes.
We sleep in your cave
Wrapped in animal skins
Burning damp fir, that hisses softly
The fragrant smoke
Numbing my senses
And you draw me deeper
Into your dreams

What is this madness
That you have brought out in me?
My ingenuity in battle and
Countless victories amount to
Nothing here.

Far away
Across these deserted waters
Someone is waiting for me.
I remember her now
And my body shudders slightly
As I pull you closer
Against the chill of morning.

by John Champion

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