Abigail

About my sister.

The ordinary turned into an anthem,
The rain would pour, but all stayed dry
Emerald orbs that sparkled,
A deeper thought.
Light, blithe notes settled on the air.

Love from limbs of grace,
A string of gold.
Enticement and worship so distant
In circles of lords.
Over high peaks and depressions
Her melodies prayed;
Wept the forgotten and deserted

The onlooker says it’s a fable,
Those near take each moment for granted,
So fast dismissed, who knows?
A room that is lit by the fairest is empty
Basins forgotten?
Hers was a modest, subtle presence felt.

Now her symphonies are far away,
Melting in mist.
Yet they reach through the hurdles of miles,
A solemn promise.
Evading in wait under deep clouds
Erupts through.
My heart in connection with hers,
Abigail.