A Meadow After Me

September 30, 2009
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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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