A baby, a bit of star dust
Blown free from the realm of the sky,
Upon the breeze of mystical magic,
To become the joy of a new day.
Sophie’s journey, a trail of innocence,
An exquisite purity -- always.
Her memory -- the sweet sounds of wind chimes,
Your little girl
A sonnet unwritten
A symphony not heard
A painting unfinished.
Tears of color bleeding onto
The canvas of your heart.
Silently, oh so silently,
Rocking with empty arms.
Lancing through the wounds of despair,
An evolution of dissipating grief,
Allowing for a spring time’s promise,
To be planted and nurtured.
As a butterfly’s chrysalis opens
Revealing nature’s wonder,
So shall your love become
A syncopated ballet of hope.
New days come,
Cries are heard,
Your arms empty no longer,
Feeling the profound joy or your children.
Marce Weibel 10/10