Song of the Passing

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Clutching at life with both her gentle hands
She tries to slow the gently fraying strands
Her words the wings of a fragile butterfly
Slipping the air and taking to the sky
No mortals reach the unknown well of sea
That swallows all of time triumphantly
Slowly, slowly, does it fade away
Until the darkness is a burning day
And when the roaring of a life is done
Her soul takes flight to Heaven all in one.

(c) Bree Holloway
June 6, 2013

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