My Meadow

I called her Meadow,
Overgrown and left to
Her own devices, to her
Own Piper’s calling.
I called her Meadow,
Untouched for decades
Yet still flowering,
Persistence is never futile
It seems.
I called her Meadow,
In my mind her silence
Echoed between absent
Trees, beneath stars of
Comfort living.
I called her Meadow
In my dreams