Meadows
I walk through a golden meadow.
The coarse green grass brushes softly against my legs.
My hands finger the flowers now in bloom.
Pink, red, yellow, white and blue.
The bees buzz around my head,
Busy at work.
I walk through the once golden meadow.
The ground hard and icy.
The flowers have died from the winter frost.
All is white covered in snow.
Robins flit to and fro.
In the blood red sun.
I walk through a golden meadow.
Searching for perfection.
My hands finger through her dark brown hair.
The sun glints in her eyes.
Butterflies flutter inside me.
I am in love.
|