We walked a few miles

Hands connected part of the way

And then I would grab a stone

And heave it into the lake we circled

Or she would point to a particular bird

And dance off on her own

Only to return to sender

Like a homing pigeon

Destined to fly back home eventually

And that she did

Until one day she didn't.

You can trot out your homilies

Compassion only goes so far

Experience is the denomination of life

It is measured in doses you can handle

The pain can mount

And each gets to wonder -

How much they can hold up under

Or, whether time is really

The identifying factor.

She used to ask -

"How much love can you hold

Before you burst?"

I had many answers

But I offered none -

Knowing she had asked

Because she knew the answer

Was obvious to anyone who knew her -

She saw love as a force

That passed through you

Leaving a permanent trail

Of perfect moments.