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A life lived less seriously,

With perspective slanted,

Or perhaps not,

A view more allied to the needs of others,

Yet flippant and irreverent,

Charged with the wit of the ages,

The omniscient eye,

Objective and calm,

With a mischievous glint,

In equal measure both,

A panacea and an irritant,

A wind that blew in,

And left without farewell,

Its legacy of lightness,

A smile behind the eye,

A touch that I was glad to know,

That stays with me,

Illuminates my darker days,

Not so much an epitaph,

It’s just that sometimes,

I think of you,

That’s all.