For Laura
Blow, wind,
blow this piercing sorrow away,
Swell this
lively windsock her forlorn friend
Made, her
remembrance of much sweeter days,
When their
playtime was not supposed to end.
Shine, oh
sun, shine, dry all my loving tears,
Give blooms
the life my darling was denied
On far-off
shores; she’d lived only six years
And nine
months, she was still a little child.
Their
windsock soars today, it flaps and sighs
Proud yet
feisty, suspended in the air,
Persuades me
to pursue it with my eyes
Beyond space
and light, an unknown place where
Happy
giggles mark the passing of time
Pain fades
to oblivion, grief has no rhyme.
(c) Jorge Salavert, 2012.
