to the memory of Betty King, April 27, 1932 – April 22, 2019
She walks in beauty, the poet said, like the night.
But you walked like a fresh spring morning,
Alive with hope; bright with grace.
You filled your pocket of time with loveliness;
Adorned each moment with beauty.
Your memory hangs on the air like a breath.
Your laughter echoes in my ears.
Your life, quilted with love, blankets me.
You come to me now on the scent of a dogwood blooming in April.
And each delicate blossom brings to bear all the fullness of life.
©stephanie pepper, 2019
To know Betty is to know that she was a connoisseur of all things beauty. Art, literature, music. Flowers and pretty little plates. And I could share 10,000 memories and they wouldn’t scratch the surface.
Through my lifetime I watched her live with grace and grieve with dignity. And always holding everything up was love.
Betty loved poetry. This is my humble attempt to honor her in verse.
3 thoughts on “The scent of a dogwood”
Every time I read it, I love it all over again.
I’m sure I didn’t do her justice, but I tried.