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A Meadow After Me
September 30, 2009
To gaze upon this place and see
Fresh rain drops on a golden tree,
Pure white petals, dew filled grass,
ephemeral sights that come to pass.
To stand upon this place and hear
Sounds so gentle, not to fear.
Singing birds out to retrieve
things not stolen, soon will leave.
To fall upon this place and feel
Consuming prey as one last meal.
A life not taken needs to keep
fall away down, deep to sleep.
To gaze upon this place and see
something that I used to be.
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