Though she's softly gone.
There's no watery eyes,
Despairing sighs;
From me.
Just the remembrance
of her touch
and her words.

With affection.
slight melancholy.
That come
with times gift of clarity.

I cannot curse the time spent,
the talk and chatter.
of sense and nonsense,
about what does
and does not matter.

How could I ever see
her in any other light,
when she's the one who
gave these words
to me?