A Brush of Heather

I still recall that summer in Scotland as paradise

My sister Maddie and I had many an adventure

I was eleven; she was nine, best of friends,

Exploring nature’s finest creations with such fury

Maddie’s favorite were the unending fields of heather,

“God painted the land in lavender,” she would always sing,

As she ran through her purple passion, laughing in excitement

Heather brushing against her skin was magic from the heavens

A truly innocent unbridled spirit; the angels adored her

Even in her sickest, final days, she wouldn’t miss a moment

This was soothing to her soul as she prepared for her journey home