Song for Those Gone
I’ve heard it said
some things lost are never to be found,
but all things must return:
new forms and shades,
new shapes and names.
In dreams, you flutter on air,
butterfly wings too soon silenced,
taken under tow of time and weight,
too beautiful to be born.
We imagined you
speaking in schoolyard codes,
pitter-patter of nervous foot on floor,
tasting the first berries of summer.
But, maybe, you’ll come
as a rainbow
a sunbeam
a songbird
a shading tree.
Something that holds only joys
for you held nothing dark of
the world, nothing to spoil
from becoming all you could.
But you were all you could be:
Ours,
loved,
all seconds we shared.
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