You there, lurking in the shadows
Thought I didn’t see you, but I did
I’d know your golden locks anywhere
Even in the half light of a winter moon
I’d know you
Fifty-seven years seems such a long time
Is it the same for you?
I picture you–
Still holding me
Like in the old photograph
You left me
I never got the chance to tell you
just how I felt about you
The stories about you
still float through my head
They said you were special
You knew things–
Things no four-year girl should know
They said you loved me
You couldn’t get enough of me
I’m always glad you’re there
but you can go now
You don’t have to stay here
Not for me any longer–
Unless you want to
Poetic Alchemist 
Dan: Sure thing. As Paul Harvey says “Now you know the rest of the story.”
Oh. Thanks, Don. I understand!
Kai: Thanks, and it’s true.
awwww
Paul: Thanks. Yes at least, and maybe even longer.
Dan: Thanks. No, this is a picture of my cousin Donna Jean, who died when she was 5 or 6. She used to love to hold me and talk to me. This is a picture from 1951. I was 6 of 7 months old. I have always felt a guardian angel presence from Donna Jean.
Floots: Indeed. I hope everyone does have a Donna Jean. Thanks.
A lifetime of thought has gone into that one –
Ah… is that your sister?
really like this don
i think we all have our own “donna jean”
and must be sure not to lose sight
thank you