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Clare Martin Clare Martin
Recommendations: 12

Pixies in the Breeze


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In memory of a very special young girl, who recently lost her battle to cancer.


I see her smiling face in the flowers,
I see her small, thin body in the trees.
I see her bright green eyes in the grass.
I see her smooth, tanned skin in the leaves.


She became a part of this beautiful meadow.
This soon became a part of a beautiful dream.
She appears to me in the most beautiful form
Like an elf in the flowers or a pixie in the breeze.


In my head, I see her fallen, broken form
Lying in my arms, slowly fading from me.
Not wounded but broken, no tears but so sad,
Her hand gripping mine in silent finality.


Fresh as a raindrop in the meadow that morning,
Lying still in the grass flower-coated later on.
No words were said apart from a final demand;
“Please, big brother, can you sing me a song?” 1 comment


Death is something we can’t always accept
When it decides to take somebody so small.
Then I remember, she’s in the form of a tree,
Where she stands several hundred feet tall.


Sleep tight now, my angel. Close your eyes.
I’ll be here with you when next you wake up.
God will take care of you and that I promise.
Until next time, sleep tight now, my love.


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