Honeysuckle Rose
Jenny loved her quiet walks underneath the midnight moon
along the paths and through the clearings of Johansson's Wood.
The rustlings of nocturnal creatures, spiders at their looms,
and over all the sweetness of the honeysuckle's bloom.
The honeysuckle patch was huge; it covered many trees,
and its white blooms, opened as one, filled the nighttime breeze.
Jenny stepped up to its edge; at that moment, so it seemed,
the shifting wind curled round her, wrapped her in that scent so sweet.
The vines were soft; she laid her head back, drew a deep full breath,
closed her eyes - just for a moment - and lapsed into a dream.
She dreamed of home and breakfast, of fresh honey for a treat;
she dreamed so deep and peacefully, she dreamed of her own death.
She was found in early morning, a cloudless dawn and bright,
wrapped in the honeysuckle vines, some of them wound so tight
that police thought she'd rolled and twisted falling in the night.
Pink in the blooms was dismissed as a "trick of morning light."
Jenny loved her quiet walks underneath the midnight moon
along the paths and through the clearings of Johansson's Wood.
The rustlings of nocturnal creatures, spiders at their looms,
and over all the sweetness of the honeysuckle's bloom.
The honeysuckle patch was huge; it covered many trees,
and its white blooms, opened as one, filled the nighttime breeze.
Jenny stepped up to its edge; at that moment, so it seemed,
the shifting wind curled round her, wrapped her in that scent so sweet.
The vines were soft; she laid her head back, drew a deep full breath,
closed her eyes - just for a moment - and lapsed into a dream.
She dreamed of home and breakfast, of fresh honey for a treat;
she dreamed so deep and peacefully, she dreamed of her own death.
She was found in early morning, a cloudless dawn and bright,
wrapped in the honeysuckle vines, some of them wound so tight
that police thought she'd rolled and twisted falling in the night.
Pink in the blooms was dismissed as a "trick of morning light."
