…she left her mark inside…
(written to my mothers uncles)
She was the life, that wanted to be…
– but it just almost caressed her
She was the flower, that should have been full-fledged
– but merely reached the sunlight
She was the butterfly, that wanted to fly high
– but merely perceived the sky
She was the music, that should have been played
– but merely reached your senses
She was the wind, that wanted to be a loud storm
– but merely touched your cheek
She was the dance, that should have been danced!
– but merely asked – am I allowed?
She was the timbre, that wanted to be the rainbow
– but merely touched your eyes
She was the mother, that should have been there
– but merely whizzed by her childrens lives
She was the one, that always touched everyone
… she left her
lasting memory inside…
… she left her mark inside…
16 sep 2004