The image we will always remember:
You, swirling and spinning
throught the streets of New York,
becoming the blue and yellow and orange.
You looked excited, not afraid, not caring
that strangers gawked at you. You learned
to move with the wind, to stay grounded
while fate turned you round and round.
At one with the blue and yellow and orange,
at one with the streak of fiery red,
standing straight and filled with awe,
you let yourself be carried by art, by wind.