The Winged Soul

The winged soul of the body that withers

soars above the brilliant lights

away from the reality

of the aging host it resides.

The free love that binds these two together

is not just an imaginary thing,

but a way of life simple and precious.

She sits there, her soul playing a song

that allows her free spirit to glide about the meadow,

dancing with slow streams of light

into the world unknown.

Her heavy arms and wrinkled face

cannot move as much as it used to,

but her soul is light and moves freely with the wind.

I can see the precious soft light

as her soul begins to wander,

her eyes lit with the simplicity of life.

Something was calling to her,

in another world of light.

I knew her spirit was leaving

as she sat in the meadow,

her eyes fixed on something I could not see.

She waits, sitting, saying nothing

As she enjoys the feeling of freedom.

Her soul bounds up and down

the green mossy path of stones

as we sit in the sunlight together,

listening to the music of another past.