May there always be a friend
to write a letter —
always time for silence
between bars of music —
always more stories,
more music —
always a flock of birds
over the river —
always old maps
promising new journeys —
always an island at which to moor
and shade of trees.
May the lonely routine
bring wonder to strangers —
may every little room
open on wide worlds —
may all the years
be charts drawn in clear ink
and none of the clouds to come
veil the view from the summit.
