cover me in clover
let the sparrows
pass me over
and the calling curlews
cry the dying day
let lilies lie together
with growing grasses gather
to whisper the ways of we
the whys of me
the ties that be
and being, ever are
let my fingers lace the leaves
and my eyes transcribe the sky
between the trees
that tower silent over all
my hair in ivy twining
and I, I lie repining
in the hollow with the wind
among the waving of the rye
dim dance the stars
drawing up the rising moon
in hours ever darkening
as night takes flight upon the air
let the roses drop their petals
and the pansies press their breath
against the hill where mosses
grow to softly pad my rest
shield me in shadows
in the bower only crows know
where the river flows
and wends amidst the reeds
with the summer softly sighing
her song sweet respite plying
let the dew fall chilly gleaming
upon my dreaming breast
call the swallows
to the hollow
and the wrens
to guard my rest
and sing the days of we
the ways of me
the ties that be
and being, ever are

© Sarah Whiteley


  1. Thank you! I had fun with this one while writing it… it almost feels to me as if I need to set it to music. Perhaps some day when I have more time and a better place in which to concentrate.



  2. You’ve grown beyond prescribed meter. You’ve become the Artist Creator. I feel your words and taste your thoughts. I touch your mind and haunt your haunts…



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