I remember the first time I saw her,
She was standing away from everyone else,
And everything.
Standing on the porch,
With a light breeze blowing her dark hair back,
Pressing her dress against her body,
She turned around lazily, almost in slow motion, it seemed,
And walked my way.
At least, that’s what I thought,
She was going for the chair behind me.
But I remember feeling like a child, sitting under a large tree in Spring,
Watching as the shedding pods drifted slowly towards the ground,
Twirling, spinning, falling down to the Earth.
Narrowly missing my outstretched hands, until one of them finally landed.
With her, I saw the world, not all of it, but enough,
I saw great lakes, with the water rippling slightly on a cold November morning,
Lush, green forests in June, pulling us into their gnarled arms, inviting us to vanish forever,
Bright, pink sunsets in September, bringing about the dark nights, ones that soothed us. Every time I saw her, it felt like I was seeing her standing on the porch again,
A light breeze blowing her dark hair back,
Pressing her dress against her body.
It felt like it was far too soon when she began to fade away,
Breaking a bit more every day,
She was sick, dying, they found it too late.
A cold December morning, with her hand in mine, she left everything behind.
Her head, resting on a pillow, making it seem like she was asleep,
I took a beautiful emerald ring off of her finger, and went outside.
It seemed as if though everything in nature had been filled with her spirit,
The leaves, the flowers, and the wind.
I pictured a lotus flower, drifting along in the wind, climbing higher and higher,
I knew that she would be okay.
I kept that ring of hers, for a while it’s color seemed to grow brighter,
But recently, it’s begun to fade away,
Day by day.
I don’t know why.
I’ve started sitting under the tree again,
None of the pods fall close to my hands anymore.
