…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