With a whispering wind in silence she sings -
Her raptured emotion stirring even the trees.
The old wind chime chants out its haunting ring -
Singing within her crystalline voice.
Yes she hung it long ago just where it is,
Another reminder that she was here
And somehow she is still near.
But I just cannot find it in me to rejoice.

That day it was snowing and cold.
She had asked me to hang it days before.
Somehow I forgot and I suppose that rather than scold
Me she decided to take care of it herself.
She had on her nightie, her bath robe and my old work boots.
She had the wind chimes, a hammer, a nail and a chair.
At the moment I didn’t think that I had ever loved her more.
I was wrong.

Keep singing - my darling...... please keep on singing