Rywa Weinberg
When the air changes
Mild air coaxes lilac buds to open,
nudges forget-me-knots to show their faces,
new warmth, new growth, hope re-born.
The sun stole my daughter's spirit,
wrapped it in gold and petals
to shimmer in the summer months.
Sweet smelling flowers delight,
colours shout and dazzle,
there is nowhere to hide.
When the air changes
and summer fades to memory,
her spirit looks at the world through my eyes,
through my eyes.
Page(s) 32
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