Beyond my Sight

Although this poem deals with memory, the details in the poem do not represent any of my memories. Each detail is an invented memory. Poets are storytellers too.

Meadow Stream

This is where
I laid marigold
petals on the dried
backs of fallen

oak leaves,
set each leaf
adrift, watched
them navigate

the wrinkled water:
around the cold stones,
the branches, soft
and sodden.

Sometimes, a leaf
survived the dips,
the turns, carried
its charge, its petal,

as orange as flame,
beyond my sight,
where the stream
curled around

that old willow
and through
the tall grass
that always seems to catch

the sun, invites it to rest
before the sky
succumbs to night,
when crickets

call to each other,
click their wings,
each one lost and alone.

——————–

Inspired, in part, by today’s WordPress Daily Challenge. Want to know how? Just ask.

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3 thoughts on “Beyond my Sight

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