aren't they beautiful; all the bits we hold onto?
the smell of patchouli and the humour of a gold hoop earring -
a blue sequin dress and a tickle in your palm-
a waltz in the driveway and the silhouette of a tweed cap -
inky fairy wings and words written in the clouds when we need them most -
these empty spaces are electrically charged;
this is the art you leave behind.
this is how we remember you