To my friend Toni, you are gone but still live in my dreams

Dreams are much like flowers.
They germinate from planted seed -
invoking much in mental stimulations.
They bud, so beautiful they are,
so full of the wondrous novelty of birth.
They bloom, petals reaching out for all to see,
in all the glorious excitement of living,
as we contemplate their likelihood
of being part of our everyday reality.
But alas, they wilt, turning shades of brown,
as doubts, frustrations and fears loom,
bringing us down, thoroughly disheartened,
to face the truth of what really is to be.
And then, they die -- recycled into something
so entirely different that another seed emerges
and the process begins anew . . . seeking the prize
inherent in fulfillment of a dream, or they are
simply just . . . forgotten, never again to rise.
Buck the trend, find a dream and ride it to the sky.

By Shirl A Steward

My wonderfully talented artist friend Toni Donelow Stewart died in 2004.  She simply closed her eyes and her heart stopped beating.  She was only 41 and had two young boys.