Those We love

Those we love don't go away, they walk beside us everyday. Their murmurs, soft, in tree leaf whisper defrosts my heart that did grow crisper with grief that stained inside and out when I existed with my doubt that vanished voices of yesteryear would come alive and stir the atmosphere. Breezy hands, they touch my shoulder, rustling lilac plumes and growing bolder— as shaking purple scent awakens my recall of June bouquets that did enthrall. Polaroid moments in mindful frames can flare or tame these mournful flames. Our days were filled with cheer and dare; but now, their souls, they fly as sheer as air or sit, to contemplate as still as moss. They come to help alleviate my loss; I see them in the blue of sky or wisp of cloud, or sunshine warmth spilled over crowd; I catch a glimpse in happy eyes and sense they’re there in spirits' guise. A moment here and then they’re gone, beyond white veils of angel-air-chiffon. I’ve come to know and feel inside that never-ending, they’ll reside within me always, and everywhere. To sense them near, fulfills my humble prayer.