"This Poem"

"This Poem"

This poem is a salve to my wounds.
This poem is an escape.
This poem points the way home.

This poem is a cool cloth
upon fevered brow, a song
sung low and soft, a caressing hand
comforting, soothing, easing.
This poem is a salve to my wounds.

This poem is a feather
upon an ocean breeze, a child
barefoot upon a forest path,
a wish granted.
This poem is an escape.

This poem is a topsy turvy map
of twists, turns, diversions, a flickering light
guiding, a haven sheltering, welcoming -
is buttered crust, cinnamon and baked apples.
This poem points the way home.

This poem heals all wounds.
This poem offers freedom to escape.
This poem welcomes all wanderers home.

by Margaret Bednar, July 21, 2014

This poem is linked and written to the challenge at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Sunday Mini Challenge - Boomerang Metaphors.  Hannah has created this form - follow the above link to read the details.

I have also linked with IGWRT's Open Link Monday.