Manuel

In loving memory of Helen Manuel, August 21, 1932 to September 23, 2007

In the evening, an old familiar feeling settles over us - and it's your face we see.

And we believe that you are there.

In a garden when we stop to touch a rose and feel the pedals soft and sweet against our hand

We smile and suppose that somehow, maybe you are there.

In the morning when we find ourselves awake without a warning,

We rub our eyes and fantasize and all at once realize,

It's morning and our fantasy is fading like a distant star at dawn.

Our dearest dream is gone.

We often think there's just one thing to do.

Pretend the dream is true.

And tell ourselves that you are there!