I remember you, singing by the window,
the spring sun filtering through your hair,
Casting golden halos,
a goddess unaware.
Melodies rose like daffodils, swaying, soft and light,
Echoing through the silent halls of morning’s tender might.

You wove notes into the breezes, stitching song to day,
Each verse, a petal falling, in the early hours of May.
Your voice, a magpie’s wingspan, wide and full of grace,
Dancing across the currents, in the indecisive space.

Outside, the world was stirring, buds whispered to bloom,
Inside, I felt the winter’s grip, finally, melting in the room.
How could such simple singing unsettle my old, gray skies?
Your tunes were keys to seasons, unlocking sun’s delicate rise.

Now in my heart, lingers every note you ever spun,
A lasting spring, undimmed by time, forever, brightly run.