Reminiscence of a friend, after her passing (who once wrote a story of broken clay jars)
I remember you.
I wonder how many others do.
Your wit so very sharp and clear.
Your heart was ever pure and clear.
You glide across my consciousness
a momentary thoughtfulness,
like a gentle breeze through leaves of green,
never rustling, never seen.
My soul was changed by knowing you.
I wonder how many others were too.
Your kindness like a precious gem,
your humor sharp as roses stem
Never again to draw breath here,
You left before the fullness of years.
And yet, you linger never far
though not within your broken jar.
You've joined the realm of history.
You left behind all toil and worry