My Sainted Aunt

It’s rare to reflect on the life that we live,
Much simpler... stay busy, feel love, take and give,
But in time of passing the mundane stands still,
We see things more clearly, for good or for ill,
And how we’ll be judged, what we leave in our trace,
Is starkly compared with a soul of such grace.
Since I lack the words or poetical power  
To fully describe such a delicate flower  
May I please hark back to the life she had led
And share this strange dream from my poor troubled head.
Her links to the water come first to my mind,
Whatever the issue she’d always be kind.
I’d make choppy waves, blow up a small storm,
Her answer... just gentle, inspiring and warm.
My life could be seen like a small rowing boat,
Advancing quite well just by staying afloat.
Allow me this view with no wish to impugn her,
Her life was more that of a three masted schooner.........
The sea was traced an azure blue,
White horses tinged the distant view,
Close in to shore on gentle swell
A wooden ship soft rose and fell.
A blur of action fills the scene,
Some tend to rigging while others clean
And polish, brasses gleam and glow,
While ropes are coiled just neatly so.
For all this work so smoothly done  
The crew make just a gentle hum.
A call to action fills the air
Each member of the crew is there.
The sails unfurled, the rigging hauled,
Each need fulfilled before it’s called,
The canvas taut with freshening breeze
The ship makes way with perfect ease
So smoothly does she ride the swell,
The slightest lean all there’s to tell.
The schooner, trim and fair and bright
Sails from our view and into light
The setting sun behind her form
Which presages a new world’s dawn
The rays enfold like shining charms  
And pull her onward to its’ arms....
A life so calm, so fair, so right,
Entrusted into memory’s sight.
RIP Aunt Margaret ❤️❌🌹🌺❤️