I drove home from the meeting
Through a late evening sunset,
Blush pink in a sea of orange
That merged into that special
Clear blue of a hot summer nights’ sky
And thought of you,
Flitting through your garden
Touching this and that bloom
With a gentle caress of your hand.
You were not there tonight,
As we met and shared words
That tumbled and jostled
And vied for attention.
We will never hear again
That coy well enunciated brilliance
That you conjured up,
Well defined and honed
By your imagination.
You were not there, and yet
You will always be there
In step with us
Encouraging and urging us
Towards a higher level.
As you tripped through your garden,
You will tiptoe through our minds
Call us to book, and we
Will try just that little bit harder
To emulate that magic that was
Truly yours.
