The Meadow

I am going to the meadow
Where the lady slipper grows,
Where the grass is green and even
And the sparkling waters flow;

Where the sun drenched daisies slumber
And the soft spring breezes blow,
I am going to the meadow
In the valley down below.

I am going to the meadow
Whistle sweetly, soft and low,
See the gentle flowers beckon,
Twilight shadows now unfold.

I am going to the meadow,
Kiss me softly as I go;
I am going to the meadow,
In the valley far below.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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