Sometimes...when my life has space,
my mind traces a faint voice, singing from distant horizons.
Snatches of light gurgling laughter or a bird?
Light notes, drifting from promised memories
pierce my mind with almost longing;
delicate satin skin, I almost, feel;
ripples of lilting happiness, I, almost, hear.
You never were... and yet you never go completely.
I hear you singing sweetly...

by Mary-Catherine Wood

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