Jigsaw (Poetry)

I am missing one pale piece of wistful sky —
irregular, the shape cut clean away
by jagged mountains, distant, partly veiled
and trailing ragged skirts of mist-soaked grey.

Perspective fades — all colours merge and blend
edges fray with time, refuse to fit
the pattern I imagined would frustrate
all efforts to make proper sense of it.

The scene has weathered to a stranger place —
less friendly in its disillusioned view
and incomplete — that absent piece provides
a yawning gap for years to vanish through...

I’ve searched and searched to find that scrap of blue
and finish — fill that blank, accusing hole
as though the quest is penance for old sins
and righting loss might soothe the wearied soul.

A symbollic dream — a half-glimpsed shadow realm
this piece of life misplaced — one cardboard key
to order in the landscape of my mind
unlocking doors to childhood’s memory...

Releasing ghosts from lonely afternoons
a thousand pieces spread across a board
the picture on the box some far-off world
my fantasy forever unexplored.