The Familiar That Chose You
[a Spring Solstice tribute to Fin and Shams]

​Somewhere between the last breath of winter
and the first sigh of spring,
the world paused 
just long enough
for the light to choose.

It chose you.

Fin, the flame-hearted mage
with silver hair spun from moonrise and lullabies,
eyes like calm seas that still know how to storm.
You, who carries light not like a torch 
but like a secret tucked into the chest,
warming everything you touch
without ever claiming the glow.

Beside you walks Shams --
tabby prince of glimmer and gaze,
the familiar who chose you,
as all true familiars do.

With paws like soft comets
and eyes sharper than prophecy,
he curls where magic gathers:
book edges, sunbeams,
your heartbeat.

He is your shadow and your sunspot,
your guardian when you dream too far,
your reminder that even the wise
need a nap
(and a snack
and to knock one or two things off the table).

This Spring Solstice,
as petals return and warmth seeps back into the stones,
you are not merely part of the renewal.
You are the renewal.

The light that left in winter
came back carrying your name in golden pollen.
And Shams 
well, he probably caught it first.
Batted it once.
Sat on it twice.
And now guards it purring
as only a sacred soul in stripy pyjamas can.