by Michael Plante

There’s a field where flowers come to rest:
the sun shines as if only for them.
Cascading winds sways the soul
rhythmically as one they enact
yet as a smile they are unique.

I met a flower before her rest
she shone a light just for me.
She told me of a beautiful place
awaiting us all; her belief was as strong as her heart,
her dreams just as real as a sunrise at dawn.

She said “miracles are just as real
as the flower that caresses the heart.
A lifetime of pain can be forgotten
when a flower of Elysian Fields
holds you in her thoughts”

She then drifted away towards the twilight
unafraid of things unknown
her scent slightly touching the breeze
stirring to mind the wake of memories
and a longing for home.

In my dreams her shadow touches me
from the field of rest where she awaits
swaying in unison
with those of the parted
that have blessed us with their memory.

for Laura