'Goodbye,' I whispered softly
And watched as she passed by
While others all around me
Bowed their heads and cried.
My thoughts turned to her paintings,
Huts, silent in soft light,
Herons, cranes in marshlands,
Or startled birds in flight.
Her eyes absorbed the beauty
That others failed to see.
She brushed into a keepsake
A treasure meant for me.
Though Eileen has departed
With eyes closed as in sleep,
Her spirit framed in brushstrokes
Remained, and healed my grief.
in remembrance of Eileen Gleeson, June 1993
published in Ascot Hangings (ISBN 0-8643-9198-6)
So lovely to see that my mothersm poem to her dear friend Eileen is something that you like. My mother loved to paint and write poetry. A wonderful legacy for me and my siblings. Thank you for posting.
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