She starts to lay her head to fire. I see has her voice dies, and her fingers start to thaw. Her yawn irks the birds sending them to rainbow spirals, directing them to the skies choir.
Winter seizes the the concept of her own white light. She does not fear or quake because in Springs arms, she feels safety.
Spring kisses her forehead bearing her to rest. She lays her melancholy head to an endless sea of bitter time. Spring is now free.
She bids you farewell, but she will be waiting. She never abandons; only promises. She will never forget you in her blue hands. But she bids you farewell, with a smile.
- Emily Van Dyke's blog
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The Lone Cat
Feb 28, 2022
So elegant.. a wonder to read!