SPRING BIRD, FOR SHELAGH CHEESMAN

When sunlight 

comes my way, 

I can see 

the smallest bird, high up,

on the cherry tree; 

belly, beak and leaf.

Lose that light,

come storm and sleet,

how easily I forget 

to see,

with memory.

All is lost to me. 

Then turn to the listening ear,

and touch my hand to 

curve of cheek -

mine, or yours, either 

will do. Love goes on, 

invisibly. 

© Shaista Tayabali, 2019
(sharing with Dverse Poets Open Link Night) 

Today is the one year anniversary since my friend Shelagh Cheesman passed away. Shelagh loved spring, the blossom and the warmth that returned to her Raynaud's afflicted fingers. I miss her, I have grieved the loss of her, and I feel her guiding hand strongest this month. 

Our mutual friend Colette, Shelagh and I also shared a love of these doll necklaces that were sent by Meme, another lupus-pal who lives far away in Australia, but really only a heartbeat away by snail mail, and email, and her loving spirit. Onward we go, with the friends who take care of our hearts.