In Memoriam of Zita Grayson

In shadows soft and whispers hushed,
Where stories weave and hearts are touched,
No obituary, no record bears
The name of Zita Grayson, unaware.

A secretary's grace in legal light,
To Bernard, a guiding sight,
Bright and beautiful, unknown yet clear,
A tragic end, she disappeared.

We danced through days and shared our tales,
In her home, where time prevails,
She, the older, with an open heart,
In every way, played her part.

Loved by many, her spirit pure,
Yet fate was cruel and left obscure,
A workplace once, now shadows lie,
Questions linger, tears will dry.

Two decades passed in silent plea,
In Southport's church, she came to me,
A friend’s gesture, a photo fell,
My heart ached, my soul did swell.

Anastiasa's kindness, a single frame,
A token of love, a sacred name,
Tears flowed freely, a heavenly sign,
That Zita, in peace, does now reside.

Saint of those lost, forgotten, gone,
In heaven's light, she carries on,
Thank you, angel, for your grace,
In the church, a smiling face.

Patron saint of the forsaken past,
In heaven's embrace, forever cast,
Until we meet, dear friend, once more,
In realms of peace, beyond the shore.