In a Meadow Hush
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Silently, my painful legs walk in a still meadow,
where trees and wildflowers bring me a metaphor;
I have walked this winding path many times before,
today, the wind blows and the sun is a sweet glow.
I bend to pick juicy raspberries from a bush,
and there is a tranquility in the rustling leaves;
and hidden birds sing for my soul that grieves,
in the quiet of a meadow hush.
The red juice of raspberries stain my lips,
then, I hear voices calling me from far off;
I am not afraid as this happens oft,
and my memories come floating like movie scripts.
There is a quietness in dead feet,
as I am swallowed in the fluttering wings of a mist;
for by the angel of death I have been kissed_
then, at the portal to heaven my beloved dead greet.
___________________
September 13, 2022
Poetry/Enclosed Rhyme/In a Meadow Hush
Copyright Protected, ID 09-1487-002-13
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 14
sponsor, Mark Toney, Judged 09/27/2022
Seventh Place
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2022
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