For The Sunday Swirl, my first time contributing to this site
with words provided by Brenda...thought I'd give it a try today -

Her conjured spirit lifts as grape scented smoke;
gifts of trinkets sit upon the wood mantle -
neglected dust rises
Humble servant she, saves golden curls 
in her pocket, collects ethereal messages
Wandering into the back garden,
bending to smell the flowers, 
twining their stems gently in her fingers
 till they snap,
she lays them in her maiden's cap;
All things she rests near a robin's new nest,
and as in lifetimes before she sighs -
for it's the first day of spring