Ode to a Dear Friend. A poem, by Irene Coleman

Her hand outstretched, going to the open window,
Hoping to grasp, one more life- giving breath,
It was not meant to be, as she slumped, noiselessly,
To the floor in her very sudden death.
Her clothes just fell about her frame, crumpled.
I felt her soul rising  through the spring air,
Moving to that  otherness, that space beyond us.?
She left our world without a word, aged  just 41,
The night before she went through her life,
We laughed at her memories, she was full of fun,
Her dreams unfulfilled, our hearts filled with pain,
All given up , as her lungs worked in vain…

1 Comment

  1. Beautiful Irene. So full of heart and soul.

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