Fly Free Poem by chris schwartz

The tears of the Warrior
Stream down the cheeks
Of the One
She could not save.
He still fights from within,
As she watches down
From the Heavens,
Helpless to assist
In his journey.
On stormy days,
He feels her presence.
Raindrops fall
Sometimes cold, and often warm,
Reminding him
That she, too,
Still battles with what was
Not given long enough to grow.
In the summer mornings,
When he gets up early,
He still sees the flowers she planted,
Gathering dewdrops in the morning fog.
She was a fighter,
In her time.
He didn't know her then, though.
He only knew her for a short time
When she found
The heart of a child,
And the wings of a gentle dove
Longing to fly free.