Emmalee, you dance in my dreams,
I see your sweet eyes
they shame the sky
with their bright and beautiful
verdigris beams
I yearn for you always, I want you to know
I imagine your laughter; I hear it I’m sure,
like the tinkling of windchimes on a wind – vague, obscure –
lilting, melodic, dulcet and low
do not think I’m not there, for it is not so
just because you don’t see me right now
I wait longingly, for someday, somehow,
and in the eyes of my heart, I’m watching you grow
©Debra Goodman