It's Still Life

Édith Piaf

When she sang
it was raindrops.
Falling diamonds.
A firestarter with those
drizzling tones.

Édith, my Édith,
a beacon for angels,
who made the saints weep.
I know her every song —
they were like medicine,
cured my heart. Words

to stop my furrowing rot.
I’d become old — dry wood,
but my roots longed for wet,
begged to be moist blushing plums.

And she was my drink.
Her voice carved the clouds,
a passage for sparrows
and swifts to fly. Free.

So I trod on without her.
Trod along life’s lyric.
So sing to me, Édith.
Sing me to heaven.

Poetic Bloomings “A Love Letter” and Sunday Whirl #255.
Wordle words: drizzle, rot, roots, diamonds, trail, tunnel, swift, heaven, peak, weeping, medicine, saint