She plays in the garden, arms outstretched,
Feeling the wind blow her pigtails,
In the sun, catching butterflies on her palm.
She twirls,
And whirls,
Screams and laughter all around her.

In the heat of the summer,
Beads of sweat glimmer,
But with her arms outstretched,
She feels the wind,
As it whips past her hair.

The wind moves through the bare trees,
And rustles the copper and amber leaves,
Scattered across the ground,
Her hand reaches out,
Feeling the moisture in the air,
Rain drops fall upon her hair,
Pit, pat, crunch, crunch,
The frozen fallen branches snap under her boots,

Arms outstretched she feels the snow,
And catches the snowflakes on her palm,
Wind flows through her silver hair,
“Grandmother! – It’s cold, come inside.” A child cries.
Same soul but different sight,
80 years seems to have passed in the blink of an eye.