Presence 

for Grandma Pat and Daniel, in memory

Lingering, those that have passed,

like a whisper on the breeze

or a glimpse from the corner

of my eye;

a twinkle,

a sigh,

they must be passing by.

A smile,

tears,

a kiss:

there must be more than this.

Softest sounds,

a smell;

a bluebird floating

in the sky.

Is it their spirits

or sweet memories 

that never die?

Souls never die,

souls never die.