I am painting daisies today, one
petal at a time, and thoughts of you
linger between each brushstroke,
I hope heaven is treating
you well. Tiny white flowers swirl
from the trees, like snowflakes or
parachutes, landing on
me, caressing me with softness and
each one holds your likeness.
The windchimes start singing and
your voice, in soprano, joins in.
Perhaps it is real, maybe imagined,
but I am reassured nevertheless.
Messages all around me somehow
lessen the emptiness and ease
the pain, yes, you are doing just fine
from above, smiling down, happy
that my heart is now open and the
bliss is erasing the ache.
©Beverly Bronson May 2011