I remember you, Ellie, the way you would float around. You were delicate like a white dandelion, any puff could blow you away. And I remember your voice, as you sang your songs in the garden. Sweet songs, about birds and flowers and springtime.
And I remember when your songs changed and they were about love. You sang slower, lower, milking every word. You were like a white rose then, your petals peeling back one by one as you unfurled.
And I remember that glorious day, when you were like a cherry tree in full bloom. Tiny flowers swirling away like sheets of snow, you were everywhere, in everything. You lit up the world and you sang like an army that has won the war.
I remember you. Warm, laughing, translucent.You sang about birds and flowers and spring, but your eyes would wander toward the sea.
And I remember another day, when your songs changed. You were like a tiny snowdrop, tears sliding down your cheeks like dew. Your song was a vein of silver deep underground; beautiful, but cold and far away from the birds and sunshine.
Nothing bloomed that year, and the year after you left the seaside. You said the music of the waves tortured you. You had stopped singing by then.
Yes, Ellie, I remember you. I remember you like a blown dandelion, scattered in the wind, fading as you fell. I remember you like the stars remember the moon, even as they watch her wane. I remember you, Ellie, I remember you and cry.
