Summer Grass

Out in the country summer grass,
We ran our breathless races;
With frequent side-trips to the shade,
And splotches on our faces

Out in the country summer grass,
We sang our song of growing;
But of the clouds that gathered near,
There really was no knowing.

Along the riverside so bright,
We grew our nascent egos;
We whispered breezes into life,
And battled with mosquitoes

Along the riverside so bright,
We made friends just to have ’em:
But of the clouds of war and death,
We could not know or fathom.

For time’s a thing
That does not fail to pass,
Like breeze that ripples through
The summer

Grass

Author: Owen "Beleaguered" Servant

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

One thought on “Summer Grass”

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