Dreams still bring her lightest sigh.
Upon waking, her scent
Floats upon the air I drink….
See her standing there,
Eyes averted as she turns away,
Passes from room to room, avenged.
I cannot choose her doom….
Whatever scorn she holds is hers alone,
Her angry mind and hurting heart
Now home of wild shrine or heavy tomb.
Were she to smile and speak truly
From heart freed from chain or wheel,
Perchance she might know far better
Than true words alone impart
She is beloved and missed this day.