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...
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