The Magician

The fields ran golden-orange 

The day I met you,

And it was pure accident 

Our eyes introduced.

Affixed, I was afraid –

And not of us,

Just of the danger 

I wasn’t meant to know.

You were a stranger,

A wondering one.

I was lost in a field,

Gardening among bones.

White light eclipsed

By your blowing hair,

Rays reaching between them,

Carrying you to me

As warmth

Against my face.

I still hear

My own heart.

I still feel

Those ray-spears.

A frozen moment,

Then light-speed –

I blinked.

You…

Disappeared.