The scent of a dogwood

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

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