POEM: Passing
Across the green pastures feel the long grass brush against your knees,
Through flowing streams and sense cold water at your feet,
Warm sun peels back the clouds cautiously strolling through the damp vapour,
A wail in the distance,
A reserved reminiscence comes that maybe once travelled before
Sensation of holding that cannot let go,
A glimpse of a wonderful smile that’s recognisable,
Eyes are closed but has no influence on what’s been seen,
The last breath,
A silence, loving what’s been left behind.
by Patrick Donovan
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