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