The Echo of a Soul

The Echo of a Soul By Andrew Weeden In the windswept hills of vibrant green, Here I sit at your lonely grave. The bright flower that made my heart beam, Is the wilted flower I could not save. From the beginning I did not know, I was oblivious from the start; Cancer’s blade cut away your happy glow And would thrust to pierce my very heart. Consumed in the darkness of raging anger, Ten years I stand alone in the rain. With death no longer a distant stranger; My only companion in the storm of pain. Now it seems no one remembers, But you did not cease to be. Your spirit still burns in glowing embers And lives inside the fire in me. The storm is passing; I finally see its end. Happiness smiles again and shakes me to my core. I realize every time I lift my pen My Grandma speaks once more! Reflections of your love Weave tapestries in time. As a singing mourning dove, Your words whisper in my mind. So though you had to go, You remain in your begotten; As an echo of a soul, Gone but not forgotten.