She walked with the bottom of her shirt turned up as a makeshift basket. She stopped here and there to collect her favorite yellow treasures. Where some saw a shirt full of weeds, she saw necklaces, bracelets and bouquets of love. Sitting under her favorite tall oak she would string them together, one into the other and in the end, she was unable to tell where one ended and the other began. The sun low in the sky, she knew it was time to wander home. As the light faded across the long manicured yard she stopped, falling to her knees in front of the first fluff of the year. She couldn’t bring herself to pick it, instead she lowered her lips to whisper and exhale into the wind. She knew the soft white pieces must be how angels delivered wishes. She only hoped that hers would make it to heaven.
For you my dear friend and all the wishes, dreams and memories that are carried on the wings of angels.