Meadow Of Forget-Me-Not

• Jes Boyd, Grade 12
• Poetry
• 2013

The wind breathes on my face,
the crisp gust of spring air.
My eyes follow its path and they watch as it blows across the meadow.
Indigo forget-met-nots blow west, and remind me of the home I left behind.
My skin once used to dirty polluted air must become accustomed to fresh clean oxygen.
My eyes used to seeing bustling people and monochrome grey skyscrapers
need to get used to sea blue skies and bright green treetops.
The hand that once held someone else’s is now empty
the love has been left behind.
I pull my curled hair out of the perfect bun
And let the wind brush it as far back as it wished.
My simple ivory gown cascades behind me
as I watch the pink and orange sky glow and dusk falls upon me like a dark blue blanket.
I fall to my knees and rest my head on the bright green grass and
a single glistening tear slips down my face
as I close my eyelids and drift asleep.