Her

I watch her float on heavenly clouds lightly touching the faces of those before her Running her fingers across the shrouds of the old ones to whom she must confer The most radiant of the angels now will she think of me as the years unfold Wiping my tears and wiping my brow I feel her small fingers in a protective hold Across my shoulders and rubbing my back I know now I needn't worry about my love any more I will think of our time our memories unpack and wait for our time to dance across the floor.