Dearest Magnolia

He runs an aged hand
over the peeling amber bark,
hears clear the sound
of bright breathless youth,

Spring melt
in a mountain brook,
the velvet brush, crushing.
Caress of a gentle hand

Spring bride
in pearls of white
and sugar candy pink

Kissed now with words
and blood red ink

Soft blush of
blooming cheeks,
her faith robust
her lungs weak,

A song
of ten glorious days,
wild spring winds
blew her bloom away.

buried here in flint grey soil
His dear magnolia
Love in bloom…..
despoiled.

-dave kavanagh

TB took an awful toll of people in this area in the 40s and into the 50s, this poem was written to recall a girl raised by my father prior to the birth of his own children. She was married in a hospital which she never left.

4 thoughts on “Dearest Magnolia

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