THE HONEYSUCKLE

She walked beside the rollicking brook, the wind
At her back. Her hair was furling around her like a warm
And enchanted wreath of summer flowers.
She was cold that day but in her heart the warmth of
Memories burned within like a stake of burning embers.
Then she saw it. Her eye keenly proved the twisted
Ensnarled bushes to see a spring of green, small
Insignificant, but very real.
There upon its bosom lie the sweet fragrant jubilant
Yellow flower and blossom of a honeysuckle.
Oh doth her heart soar like the dove of the morning
Day-break light.
For you see it brings a note of thanks to her.
Upon the touch and smell of this tiny but hearty
Honeysuckle she remembers...
The joyous radiant face of her beloved. The memory
Of times and events passed but never forgotten. They
Shall never lie as low, as she lives her beloved and the
Memories they shared will be very much a reality that draws
Renewed life to her with each tender recollection.
A sign! This cold winsome day, she is renewed like
The eagle upon high, then soar she to realms so high she can
Help not to fly in spirit, body, mind and soul.
A note of thanks for your ever loving presence.