We all sang one lover’s foolish song,
but she always hummed to our background another song.
Not of contemptuous fate, but rather of
Amazing Grace.
I sensed a singing in her “I’m myself”, wrinkled face.
She was too pure to be viewed jealously.
Herself,
was always the anti-antihero,
ceaselessly willing to enfold the entangled
“Backward Christian Soldier” with gentle grace.
Come, look at her singing twin siblings.
Come, sing with unclogging, decongestant laughter.
Catch your heart-breath in her sensitively expressed amusement.
Her shining eyes & invisibly flushed-deep-red ears sweeps clean every observation.
Quite fully alive and transfixed in the rapture of her encompassing,
paper-cup, wise gaze.
I was always the proud one that could always catch her 97-year-old,
two beautifully perched black hole raven eyes.
God’s peered back at her from unwithered,
enciphering star-filled skies.
Adding your comment:
penning of the most refreshing kind! 
