she was a full
and in-colour spirit
who faded into a ghost
slowly and over time
walking through walls
where one could not follow;
she was a bright but falling star
who became the grey static
of an old television set
after all the programs went to sleep
and only wide-eyed insomnia remained
staring in hope of finding life moving
through the black and white snowstorm

but truth will tell
that over time the melody can change
like the peal of a bell
whose tone will range
from once bright, crisp highs
to the deeper, more experienced shallows

still, there is beauty nonetheless
and love worth chasing
for all its elusive paths;
one does not yearn for the sun less
as it journeys beyond night’s horizon
rather we live in memory and hope
with the knowledge she is there still
ranging free and in a necessary peace
to rise once more in the dew dappled morn
blazing hotter than ever before.