I often ponder if the leaves on the ground are blown from the mountains

Where my body now rest in its hollow shell

My spirit is silent, while my soul is waiting to die fly

Higher than the eagles above the clouds in a storm

…Flying…

Now soaring oh how alluring is this flight

I can still hear the crackling from the birds walking on the dry leaves, and the

Squirrels running about and gathering the last abundance of their food

…Quieter now…

I’ve just passed the moon. I feel the love embracing me

You see, I’ll be there

…Very soon…

2:30 PM

Vera Robinson © 2015

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