(a poem by Chicago Areas Scholastic Art and Writing Awards, Silver Winner)
Reprinted with permission of The Alliance for Young Artists & Writers.
Grey crumbled ashes
Seeping through her fingers
Diving away into the wind
Settling in places he loved
His soul dancing with the wind
From the tree tops
Singing and laughing
In and out of the waves.
I feel sick
Her hands not mine
Let you go
Flying away in grey pieces
Through her fingers
At least you’re free