A/N: Disclaimer- I own nothing related to Mercy Street, I only express my thoughts and feelings on the characters herein.
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Poetry in motion
the swish and color of the leaves
Outside this window
I turn away from the chaos inside
Find a face down there on the street beneath the dappled shade
remember that helping hand
When he was close . . . all I could feel was that unruly blood in my veins
A widow amid the young so close to dying
I'm trying . . .
to detect the secret pattern clothed in the breeze
the smell of a tree's sap dripping like rain
so unlike the harsh metallic tinge
of reality
Yet the heightened place I stand is somehow surreal
at this moment
filtering, coloring even my view of him
All I see is silver . . . not right, not wrong . . . just colors of an ideal
