The Human Spirit
Keys hold their notes once danced over with fingers,
coffee cup scents still linger, long after a last sip.
Trees stand when leaves wilt,
clouds form when rain has fallen.
Frozen faces fade yet remain in sepia moments captured on film,
those same knowing eyes and grins that breathed for the last time years before.
At night mountains hide behind mist, only to yawn awake under the morning sun.
A snake sheds its skin, nails grow back, broken bones mend with sinew anew.
Houses thought empty welcome ghosts of talk remembered,
cliffs erode, and the rock believed lost adds to the sand below.
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