Little Flowers Softly Sway
Meadows are rich with green grass, little wild flowers softly sway,
On a very small wind drifting gently past on this late summer’s day,
You know I walked these very same fields both as a man and boy,
Even after many years it still catches me startled
its beauty, still fills me with joy.
When looking hard there’s a boy running swiftly over a grass covered glade,
Remember it well, like it was yesterday, just like watching a film being made,
Jumping grey logs, fallen fences and dodging holes, minding rusty barbed wire,
Out of breath going up hills, slowing down to my catch my breath
stopping and looking as I got higher.
Then off again running with the wind in my hair running as fast as I could,
Back down the hill over the other side, down grassy banks and into a wood,
Wish I could do that now, maybe I can but only in an old mans wildest dream,
Arms stretched out like a soaring bird then my pumps kicked off
when I got to the stream.
Dipping my hot feet in a clear cool stream, splashing water on my hair,
Time’s passed so fast, I don’t know, it’s just gone anyway, it’s not there,
Seems one minute you have all the time in all the world and then one day
I just turned around for a few precious seconds and it’s all used up,
and it’s all gone away.
Copyright © Terry Trainor | Year Posted 2015
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