Some spirits are born free to air,
They thrill, enchant spread so much love,
That when they pass to other adventures,
Our hearts are ripped apart.
But their essence lingers,
Their influence lasts,
Like the memory of a summer’s morning
When winter blows and blasts.
Like sparkles in a shaft of sunlight,
Their memory glitters
Even in the darkest of places.
Some spirits are born free to air,
Yet even when they’re gone
They send gentle breezes to ease
Our care.
© Ali Walters August 2013
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