The righteous leave more than footprints, they leave fragrance.

A memory that lingers like morning light on dew.

Their kindness becomes a shelter, their prayers a covering.

Their courage is a seed that blooms in someone else’s season.

You may not see the harvest, but Heaven does.

The Spirit whispers: Your memory will be a blessing.

Not just someday, but even now.

In every heart you’ve touched.

© Susan Ruth Robertson 92561/10252025