I think about you a lot.

Your smile,
teeth gleaming,
lighting your whole face.

Your laugh that inevitably followed,
ringing like the bells in the church on main street,
calling others to your world.

Your eyes,
sparkling with fire,
consuming all.

And your purple socks.

Those I seem to remember best of all.

Quirky, purple socks
that you wore all the time,
stating you were a bit peculiar.

I remember the day
you got the terrible news.
Time was ticking.

I can see you now,
sitting in the forest clearing,
peeling the purple from your feet.

You were hoping the birds
would take purple scraps
and spread your purple wishes.

I didn’t have the heart
to tell you not to hope-
not to dream.

You never wore purple again.