I still wish and whisper, hope and plea
(with every shooting star I pretend to see)
that (though I know you're tired) you can remember
(or see for the first time) just how special you are.
The silent, whispering joys you gave;
or the tears shaped in pain, muffled in waves
that you held and cared for with hands like wings...
...I can still see so clearly (like suns) the light you bring
