Wind Chime for Diana
Notes in the open
Play a tune for the first joke she told me
And sing a song about the movies she took me to when I was a child who appreciated being Included.
Every beautiful sound
Wrung from the wind and played in random orders that mimic the orchestra of angels.
Crescendo on the breeze
And my aunt who passed away on my mind.
She loved the simple beauty of the wind chime
Reflected its grace
And on this breezy afternoon I listen to its playlist.
Sitting next to the daughter that now has the notes of her name flowing through her
Catching sounds, not making them.
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