It started when the back of my eyes throbbed
as if by a dozen pins they were stabbed
like night draped on a blossoming flower
my eyes were robbed of light, spark, and colour.
The skies expanded, a confusing maze
and drizzled slanting dark in a blur and haze.
The last thing I saw with a slight treble
was Sirius swimming like a blind pebble
From my curse, I can no longer be free
and to me, you will be a child of three.
My cheeks dribble with hot tears I so loathe
for I will never see your shine and growth.
Yet when your small fingers touch my bosom,
my mind’s eyes see a colourful blossom.
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Something is very different about the trip described in this diary entry.