When you, in life beyond it's own life,
passed in winter's waning rains,
you entered our sorrowed dreams,
several times you've gently
rapped on my door,
I quickly would open it-
yet, no one was there,
are you stepping down from
the cherished heights of
immortality's reach,
to invite us to a celestial
gathering of souls reposed,
singing in golden beams
with the angels?