Maggie (1984-2006)

I am still trying to recall the poem you were reciting nonstop on that May night - what’s with jameson and pbr and then some more. I can hear your voice but the only fragment plays itself over and over in my head: it is only when i am not with you. Noone could have seen that this was coming. Great times and great company can be such an illusion sometimes, like right now i try to collect your words and they aren’t forthcoming. May you rest in peace, dear maggie. You were a good sport.
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Blue storm-clouds in hot heavens of mid-July
Hung heavy, brooding over land and sea:
Our hearts, a-tremble, throbbed in harmony
With the wild, restless tone of air and sky.
Shall we not call him Prospero who held
In his enchanted hands the fateful key
Of that tempestuous hour’s mystery,
And with controlling wand our spirits spelled,
With him to wander by a sun-bright shore,
To hear fine, fairy voices, and to fly
With disembodied Ariel once more
Above earth’s wrack and ruin? Far and nigh
The laughter of the thunder echoed loud,
And harmless lightnings leapt from cloud to cloud.

- Emma Lazarus