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For Ryan
Sheri Davis
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"Whist," I thought I heard him say, "listen to the wind,
and see the way the trees dance and the way it makes them bend."
As always, I was soon entranced, by nature and his voice
and though I could have run away, I stayed, by my own choice
A wise old man with secret names for the winds and plants and trees
I would spend no happier days in my life, quite like these
We knew that we were different, and that's what set us apart,
but knowing didn't ease the pain it caused within my heart
He was used to life like this, but I had not one clue
and so, to occupy my time, he taught me what he knew
I absorbed the knowledge as he passed it along
and that helped soothe the pain I felt that we did not belong
From him, I learned so many things, until he left this life
and though he asked me not to grieve, his death cut like a knife
What better way to honor him for the home he gave me here
than to use what he had passed along and keep his spirit near?
And someday, if I listen, and live my life the same,
I hope to hear, within the wind, my own secret name
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