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'...
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In the Meadow by Nathan Elliott Stephen Green is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.