Gentle Wisp

“So much like your grandma…”

I heard my father whisper

as she gently floated past

-her laughter trailing after

like the mist from mountain’s morn~ ~ ~

He stood there,

gazing at the photograph

with her eulogy below,

and reaching up, dusted off

the dust layer growing o’er--

Wiping away time-

to see the girl that he married-

the one he called his life.

His love.  His wife…

A gentle wisp of a girl-

Innocent and pure

Intelligent and wise

Sensitive and kind

And in my daughter,

Mother’s namesake,

he sees the same again…

A gentle wisp of a girl-

Innocent and pure

Intelligent and wise

Sensitive and kind

She, so very much like her…

and she, oblivious to the affect

her laughter has upon him…

She lets it gently waft about ~

and slowly settle itself around

her Grandpa’s aging heart.