SuziCate's Musings

The Scent Of Gone

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Where does spirit go

when there’s nothing left but bone?

Will you hear me sing?

A whisper of wind,

flying like birds in the sky

lingering like pine,

will carry me home

wrapped in the scent of lilac

and fresh cut hay fields.

Turn to the heavens

Breathe. Listen to my silence.

You will know I’m here.

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Comments on: "The Scent Of Gone" (2)

  1. beautiful! A lovely ode to continuity.

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