I will be there

in the paisley dust patterns

riding morning sunbeams,

in the worshiping of words,

in the tabernacle of fond memories,

in holy moments baptized

with tears

 

I will always be there

between wanting sighs, amidst

white noise of life glaring in your thoughts,

caressing your hair with

whispering breeze

 

in the chlorophyll green of spring,

sweating with summer’s frolic,

sighing amongst fall’s adagio

with crisp sage breath

and remembered verses

bled from my heart

will echo

 

you will reckon my spirit’s song,

you will smile, thankful for the years we shared;

a mix of sweet and bitter.

 

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