By Jim Bates
I really do see them,
The souls of my dear loved ones,
In the form of fluttering butterflies,
Dancing across a sunny summer sky,
Or in the colorful flowers blooming,
Along the paths we walk,
The roads less traveled.
I see them dipping and diving,
Like gulls and terns,
Flying free and unencumbered,
A ballet on the wing.
They are in the majestic soaring of eagles,
Wild on the wind,
And the chorus of songbirds,
Singing of joy and rebirth.
They are the gentle falling of a springtime rain shower,
Or the quiet murmuring of a hidden woodland stream.
They awaken in spring and rest in the winter,
While I eagerly await their presence,
Those, who, though long departed,
Are still held dear in my heart and soul,
Throughout these ever-changing seasons,
And this passionate passage of time.