You Are The Windchime / Now I Hold My Magic Near And Dear by Linda M. Crate

you are the windchime 

you haunt me,

lingering in the 

marrow of my bones;

and in the gardens

of my heart and soul—

your melody still comes

to me all these moons

and oceans after our last parting,

in pink sunsets and white roses;

and mentions of our old haunts

or movies and shows and songs

we used to watch and experience together—

some people part from us,

and we are okay and move on;

but you are the wind chime

always sending chills down my spine—

the faerie that refuses to be forgotten.

now i hold my magic near and dear

sometimes 

i am grateful for the

spells autumn has cast

because you no longer

have any control over my heart,

but sometimes your name

still inspires my ire;

but it is more hurt and anger than haunting—

would've never cast the dark magic

on anyone hat you did me but i guess that's

why they tell you that not everyone has your

same heart so don't expect them to treat you well,

and so i hold my magic near and dear

to my heart so no one can use it against me again.

Linda M. Crate is a Pennsylvanian writer born in Pittsburgh raised in the rural town of Conneautville. In addition to writing her favorite things are: nature (especially flowers, trees, and bodies of water), books, music, anime, and crime shows.