The Meadow of Time

The winters were fantastically cruel,

Salty spills of troubled tears dribbled down her cheek, She stared into the mundane mirror, wanting a peek,

The body she inhabited was not one she deeply desired, Her lips were cracked and her eyes were tired,

She touched the reflection with her humble hands,

Remembering that she had so many other plans.

The springs were fantastically cruel,

The bittersweet taste of her sorrows were pins and needles to her heart, Buzzing of the static emptiness made it easier for her to start, There was nothing more than silence in her mind,

Searching for the happiness she’d soon find.

The lingering light inside of her burned,

An unlighted candle, her soul yearned.

The summers were fantastically cruel,

She missed his glance and the way he talked,

Deep down in the meadow of her heart, he walked.

The crash of hail woke her from the dream,

Lights inside of her began to beam,

Maybe, the hurting was done?

Through the mesmerizing meadow she spun.

The autumns were fantastically cruel,

Growing was part of her pain,

She fought to see the broken chain,

The meadow was healthy and pure,

Never did she ever think she could forever find the cure, What was lost could not be returned,

But the gleaming meadow revealed what she had learned.

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"The Meadow of Time" by Juice Davis

Juice Davis is an 18 year old high school student who is devoted to becoming a writer that can touch the hearts of all who stumble upon her work.

IG @juicedaviswrites

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