It may be impossible to perfectly portray,
How joyfully you walked the meadow away.
To sit against your reading tree on a beautiful day,
Oh, the words of love I could not bring myself to say.
How close might we have grown?
If in that moment I had known,
To kneel, to beg God to postpone --
An illness unseen, a fate unknown.
As your head -- fell to rest,
I thought no other could be so blest.
As to nap in the place they loved best,
Though your heart lay idle inside your chest.
There, in the meadow - beside your tree,
Is where I placed a rose for thee.
For it was your favorite place to be,
And where I keep you in my memory.
When you came near I always fled,
My heart felt love, while my brain saw red.
And now my hands hold my head,
'I love you, my lovely dead'...
Hear this poem: http://youtube.com/poetryspoken
In the Meadow by Nathan Elliott Stephen Green
is licensed under a Creative Commons
Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike
3.0 Unported License.