"My sweet precious Clover,
My sweet precious girl,
Found under the trees,
Found under the leaves,
I can't help but love my Clover,
Now go to sleep my baby girl,
Now go to sleep mother is here,
Mother is here"
In an off distant dream, I can hear her sing to me. Like an ancient memory, I try to cling to before I wake up. But alas to no avail I wake up to the rising sun over my skin.
I have a smile playing on my lips humming to my mother's lullaby. It would always calm me no matter what I think it was just her voice that was soothing. I just wish I can hear it in person one more time.
And I just might one final time the sweet abyss of death calling my name. The grim reaper almost holding my hand to guide me along my way. As I try and grab my cane I see my old frail hands shake. So lovely they used to be, now they tell a story of my life over the years with each wrinkle and line marking my age as I grow older each day.
I get up feeling my old bones creak and rattle like the skeleton I am. I walk through my house admiring it from all the knick-knacks I have gained over the years mainly my younger ones. I open my window and feel a soft breeze. I see the old willow I planted with my mother when I was 5.
So beautiful in the meadow along with the thousands of clovers that I was named after. I was named after this land, Clover Willow Marsh. I find it beautiful to have this name and to have this land. And when I die it will go to my son.
I feel death looming over me. But I don't mind, I have lived a fulfilling life that I am content with. It was beautiful while it lasted and it still is beautiful.
I walk outside and towards the willow. It's near a beautiful spring that leads farther into the woods to a river. I would always swim and play in it when I was younger. It was those happy summer's I love the most.
I look at the still rising sun. It's like time has slowed and I'm the only one who can move freely. I wobble over with my cane to under the willow and sit down. There's a resting spot I've always come too, to just read a book or watch the sunrise or set.
I sit in the shadows of the willow peacefully, I can feel the breeze gently kiss my old wrinkly skin. The mockingbirds are singing to me. Singing the tune of my mother's song as I have done a thousand times.
I feel death he's near now but he's not scary. I look over at my beautiful meadow. It's so lovely this time of year I always enjoy it.
"My sweet Precious Clover,
My sweet precious girl,
I hear her voice, she's here. I smile while tears start to form in the corners of my eyes. Death, he's here but it's gentle I start slowly getting weaker and weaker. I feel myself finding comfort in the clover's under me so soft and inviting. I want to got to sleep and listen to her sing for me one last time.
Found under the trees,
My eyes go white around the edges, as it's slowly closing in.
Found under the leaves,
I can feel her hold me like she did when I was a little girl.
I can't help but love my Clover,
Her beauty and touch warm me to the core with happiness and joy.
Now go to sleep my baby girl,
I feel myself slip away year's of life-giving away with each breath.
Now go to sleep mother is here,
I exhale with one last breath, a tear of happiness rolling down my face, a smile of pure joy.
Mother is here."
One last time like I asked, thank you, mother.
