With the bitterness of the cold north wind,
with fluid grace through the warm summer air,
she wrote her last words, a message to send.
With the tears falling, all that she could care
now words on paper, written with a fair,
steady hand and a tender, broken heart.
The minutes passed slowly, none left to spare.
She knew it was finally time to depart
from this place, this life and all of its parts.
She cast her soul, inky blackness on pure white,
into the swift breeze, knowing that to start
her journey, she must concede, not dare fight.
She saw her story become a blue bird,
each line a wing beat, each feather a word.
Requiem for Jane
