A sort of poem

As I haven’t been picking up the camera I’ve been messing about writing. On one of my walks I was inspired to write this – it’s a sort of poem (I think!)

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For N

A safe place, a friendly face,
a golden globe of light.
A dancing flame that speaks my name
and chases away the night.
The shadow is there but there’s warmth in the air,
Held in the haven of this room.
A sacred hour, a healing power,
That helps diminish the doom.