Log Cabin Chronicles
When illness brushed my life with fading blue,
a labyrinth of paths emerged ahead
and there I followed, knowing what to do
when a gracious shadow kissed my head.
It wore thin veils with rosy wings that spread
above the garden in a swirling flight.
It tinged the flowers with its tender light
as flakes of fragrant mists came from its breath.
It held my hands, but shadows wearing white
erased that angel, saying it was death.
First poem: Blueing
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Copyright © 1998 Rosa Clement/Log Cabin Chronicles/8.98