At Rest
Where the bluebell carpet lies
Under green and silver trees,
Yellow primrose clusters guard
The place that no one sees.
Echoes of a gentler age
Now remote from days and hours,
This is where I visit you
Resting fragranced by the flowers.
Where the woodland hides your grave
Sunlit, stirring in the breeze,
Silver ash watch over you
As you rest among the trees.
Copyright © Elisabeth Sheaffer | Year Posted 2013
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