Olivia

Spirits of old drift on the unseen but ever coming winds.

I feel the presence of our fathers before as Olivia speaks of ancient dreams and what may come forth in the end.

Her wisdom is beyond her young years.

She listens to the soft whisper of the quiet spring breeze.

She knows the now silent voice to which her hearts hears.

Her smile is as soft as the tender petal of the rose.

Yet in her eyes, one can see, feel and touch the spirits of old.

Seldom is this gift given amongst those who are in years so young.

Thus by grace to Olivia’s heart hath this gift forever clung.

I look, I see and I feel her heart and very soul quietly beat.

For I was once she and now in spirit she is me.

Thus harken now unto this soft voice to whom the whispering words of wisdom drift on the soft summer breeze.

Listen now to her lamentations and rest now your burdened soul.

Laying not your heart on the worries of today,

Yet hear her soft voice, seek the peace of her words,

Let go and be now unto this old soul at peace.

J. Allen Wilson © 4/22/2012