Oh field of flowers where I've roamed so long
sweetly smelling your births and decays
suffering the stings for the sun
your calla lillies and your dahlias
attracting creatures to feed upon you
as you grow ever taller and fuller
sweet field of poppies;
the black eyed Susans watch over you in envy
while the Irish bells ring their delicate chimes in the wind
I have bathed in your cacophony of color year in and year out; grateful as a hummingbird in Spring.
But this year as I wander
I long for the ocean, for far off sands and mountain tops
The sun seems hotter on my shoulders,
the insects seem more insistent on biting
and my feet do not take me all the way to where the shady Hostas grow
I fear, sweet meadow of my dreams,
soon you shall become a vision for my dreams but
my dream of dreams no more.
No comments:
Post a Comment