He thinks of you, as he sits
Reconstructing memories and listens
To the beauty of night's breeze
Laced with spring's honeysuckled song.
You were a song, each note a gift upon
A sparrow as it landed to listen on your
Winter railing, your coffee cup held
In a meditator's pose.
Enraptured by your appetite for life,
The sparrow's flight homeward
Lifted higher in celebration.
You were a song, like the weightless
Shift of dreams in sleep, your image
Carried upward in lilac's blossoming purple.
In a unison of pure instead of tears,
As the sparrow calls out your name.
Your memory is still sung
By the ones who knew you.