Forgotten Corner
A squirrel scurries down the slope
Gathering sunflowers, full of hope
This is my backyard, young and alive
Into the green carpet, I dive
The grass is coated, wet with dew
Tickling my toes as I enjoy the view
Sweet, soft and subtle scent
Whiff from the sunflowers when you bend
As the day draws its curtain close
Night falls and starts its show
The birds' last notes echo and fade away
Crickets chirp and sunflowers sway
Flaunt their golden, shiny petals
The wind makes the leaves rustle
At last, the sunflowers bow their heads
As children are snugly settled in their beds
Taste, the fresh air of the past,
Now, only stale and vast
The sunflowers have wilted and withered
The wicked weeds have fought and conquered
A squirrel scurries down the slope,
Escaping from weeds, in fear, it gropes,
This is my backyard, deserted and desolate,
Silently trembling, awaiting its fate -
The squirrel trips, tumbles and falls
Flat.
Copyright © Priscilla Lewis | Year Posted 2013
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