My Golden Meadow by Ian Copestick

Punk Noir Magazine

My Golden Meadow

I sit here
trying my
best to
meditate.
I’ve named
the place
my golden
meadow, as
it’s covered
with buttercups.

As the evening
sun shines on
me, it’s beautiful.
If I could, I’d
stay here forever.

The warmth of
the sun, the
singing of the
birds, and the
beauty of the
buttercups.
Why would I
ever want to
leave.

Why would I
go home to
watch T.V.
alone, here
I’m surrounded
by nature, and
at one with
the universe.
At one with
myself.
Why would I
swap this for
soap operas, 
and dumb
game shows.

At the moment
I’m trying to get
through a crippling
grief.
My wife of 18 years
passed away two
weeks ago.
My golden meadow
is the only place
where I feel safe.
I only hope that
before winter
comes to take
it away, I won’t
need it
anymore.