Brother
I rest and recall childhood
a land of mists,
misremembered hills of moss
and lost voices.
The comrades there,
pushed together to train
to survive the seas of a hard journey
towards shrouded monoliths.
With jingle bells we trot together
bemused at the younger and older ones.
Equal gifts are unwrapped
for our fun.
I turn, and find myself alone
among the stone.