Wild Flowers

The rain spattered softly   

On her face from where she lay   

I a field of wild flowers  

As the sun broke this new day.  

Her memory is clouded  

A flash here… and then there,  

Her body’s feeling heavy  

As she seems in quite despair.  

How did she come to be here?  

Could this be just a dream?  

Or could this be reality…  

A part of a horrid scheme.  

She tries to rise but to no avail  

For her body will not give  

As an eerie chill slides over her 

She has not long to live. 

Her eyes grow heavy 

As she drifts into sleep 

A small girl laughs 

and she awakes in disbelieve. 

That voice… it sounds familiar 

Like a ghost that’s from her past… 

her memory fights to return to her 

But she fades back into black 

A little girl in daddy’s arms 

The smell of sweet perfume 

like photographs from days gone by 

one by one… keep flashing through. 

She smells the flowers…the pretty wildflowers 

so pungent and wet with dew 

But as she draws her final breath 

Her memory rings true. 

                             Antony King 2018