A Kindred Spirit
A man stood upon a moss covered hill
He wrestled with his sorrow, testing his will
His hand held a very tiny blue bouquet
Mingled there was a little bit of a hey
He held his hand over his heart, bowed his head
He was lonesome, yet not filled with dread
The bouquet was placed gently upon the mound
The chirping of the bluebirds the only sound
His soul was saddened, yet his heart was afire with love
He knew that God was taking care of her far above
He wiped tears from his cheeks, arose quietly
He turned once more, quietly he walked away
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