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
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Comments (1)
"the cool of the pond the chill of the wind warmth of a summers swim" A nice relation from nature!