The morning was heavy with mist and dew
But the sun was hot and the light burned through
And I was just ten, with little to do
But explore the surrounding farmland.
By brother and I at long last stood
By a single tree near a teeming wood
Where the sounds were full and the message good
For those who would understand
That the mist and the sun and the trees and the grass
Are there to remind of us that what doesn't last
Just comes back different, once time has past,
And we still take in the unplanned
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Tagged: Tags Autobiography Memories Poetry
Published by Beleaguered Servant
Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.
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So creative. I enjoyed reading this poem. The picture reminds me of many fond memories.