Green Echo (3)

My sister and brother were flying a kite,
As I watched my young dad with a barbecue grill;
My mother had handed me something to drink
On an early Spring day, by a big open field
With the charcoal scent strong in the air.

We laughed as we ran, and we watched the kite soar,
Then sat down for burgers and pink lemonade;
My mom had a book that she read in the shade,
On early Spring day, by a green row of trees,
And a few other families nearby.

I open my eyes, and the voices are gone;
There’s no one else out here, just me and my thoughts.
For my young dad got old, and then died in his time,
My mother is fading, and so far away,
It’s an early Spring day, but the years turn to mist,
Like the clouds o’er the top of the trees

Like the clouds o’er the top of the trees

Author: Owen Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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