The Taken

dear to my heart

that bleeds with the broken the without

the dead speaks to me

whispers of the past hear them

still sharp in a memory

that appreciates

calls to the unknown

cries of thanksgiving

gratitude’s spell devotion’s power

short life and silent are eyes

hidden devoid of

realities sting

I caress, long to remember

those who were taken

taken far too soon

whose spirit misses

the cool of the pond

the chill of the wind

warmth of a summers swim

blind I feel the lost heart

a swan who glides no longer

press against my soul body

I listen I hear

I cry inside

we together