Had the rain stopped its incessant tap dance,

Had the tears not dried,

A friend of today would have been lost.

But her spirit learned to walk

On water, like God,

A treasure in a fisherman's boat.

Now that the race she's won,

In comes the grown child with a hug,

A last solo act, before he shares Mom

With Manana's tiny toes.

As for the fog of sorrows that once danced,

Some say it lost its teeth,

Some say it drowned.

-gsa