my thoughts turn to the young woman
in a wheelchair who knew
that everyday might well be her last.
Yet her spirit soared
like a white eagle in a northern sky,
her body has gone but she did not die
and on this fine day at the edge of spring
I feel her spirit in the daffodils
and in the roses of the church path.
She is my inspiration,
her soul shines like the morning dew
reminding us how transient we are,
each one shining...like a miniature star.