Dear Meadow,

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Their eyes are closed now. Heads on pillows. Impressionable minds dashing off into dreamland. Somehow I managed to keep my chin off my chest.  Here now with the remnants of the day; dirty dishes, crumbs from dinner, leftover puzzle pieces and worn out crayons. Yet all I can remember is how hard it was just to get through.

You see I had finally found the meadow. A place where the air flows lighter on the breeze. Where bad days die giving rise to the new. Where forgiveness abounds. Where meadows like promises, never change. Never disappear. Never morphe into mountains of pain. A perfect place?  No. Simply a place ~ of grace.

Life on the other side is heavy. A treasure box filled with trinkets of failures; mine.
Of every.single.thing.I.scew.up.every.single.day.

Dear Meadow,
Please guide me out of this place.

© KP at Slaying the Embers

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